He had now arrived at a state of mind where every new phase was produced by suggestion.  He was, in a sense, hypnotized.  Everything served to swing him this way or that, up or down.  The sight of a little perfume-bottle on the table, a dainty glass thing traced over with silver, set him thinking eagerly of another little bottle, of glass with a silver stopper, his wife’s vinaigrette which she was fond of using when her head ached.  From that, the contemplation of inhaling aromatic salts, he went naturally enough to the inhaling of more potent things which assuage pain, and could assuage, if taken in sufficient quantities, the pain of life itself.  He remembered the exaltation which he had experienced once when given chloroform for a slight operation.  Directly the idea of repeating that blissful sensation seized upon him he was mad for it.  To go out of life like that, to take that way of opening the window into eternity, into another phase of existence or into oblivion, what ecstasy!  He remembered that when under the chloroform, a wonderful certainty, a comprehension, seemingly, of the true import of life and death and of the hereafter, had seized him.  He remembered a tremendous assurance which he had received under the influence of the drug, of the ultimate joy beyond this present existence, of the ultimate end in bliss of all misery, of the tending of death to the fulness of life.  He remembered a rapture beyond words, an enthusiasm of gratitude for such an immortal delight for the power which he had sometimes rebelled against and reviled for placing him in the scale of existence.  He remembered how all his past troubles seemed as only stepping-stones to supernal heights, how he could have kissed them for thankfulness that he had been forced by an all-wise Providence over the agony of the ascent to such rapture.  Immediately his thoughts centred upon chloroform.  He looked across at the divan with its heaped-up pillows, and his mind, acting always from suggestion, became filled with the picture of his peaceful bed up-stairs, and himself lying thereon, oblivious to all his miserable cares and worries, passing out of reach of them on an ecstatic flight propelled by the force of the winged drug.  He began to consider the possibility of obtaining chloroform.  At once the instinct of secrecy asserted itself.  He decided that he could not, under the circumstances, go into the drug-store in Banbridge and ask for a quantity of the drug sufficient for his purposes.  He realized that to do so would be to incur suspicion.  He doubted if he could maintain a perfectly unmoved countenance while asking for it.  He felt that his face would bear evidence to his wild greed.  He heard, as he sat there, the whistle, then the rumble of a heavy freight-train a quarter of a mile distant, and at once he thought of the feasibility of going to New York for the chloroform.  He looked at his watch and reflected that he had lost the noon train.  He also reflected as to the possible