“I’m afraid this is an awful blow to you, Sophy,” resumed Fuchsia, “and you will think I had no business to crowd in; but it is best that you should have your eyes opened before it is too late.  What do you think yourself, dear?”

There was an agonising pause.  Self-deception was no longer possible.  With an effort she replied: 

“I am afraid what you have told me is terribly true; it was stupid of me not to have guessed at something of the sort.  I see things clearly now that you have put them before my eyes.  Many puzzles are explained—­the reason Aunt Flora keeps herself isolated; the reason why she has no really intimate friends; the reason why she is so untidy in her dress at times and talks so strangely.  I suppose Mr. Krauss knows?”

“No!” replied Fuchsia with emphasis, “I have watched him carefully, and I don’t believe he has the faintest suspicion, any more than you had yourself.  Your aunt’s ayah, and possibly the cook, are fellow-conspirators, and no doubt the cause of ‘the Missis’s’ long strange illness is common talk in the compound.”

“What can be done to cure it?  Oh, Fuchsia, do advise me!”

“If I were to offer you one piece of advice you would not take it.”

“Well, at least allow me to hear it.”

“It is to clear out of the house altogether and return home.”

“I shall certainly not take that advice; I was invited to Rangoon to be a companion to Aunt Flora, and the moment that I find she has something frightful to fight against is surely not the time for me to run away and leave her in the lurch.  No, I shall stay here and do what I can.”

“Ah, if you only could; but, my dear girl, I’m afraid it is too late.  I have been questioning Pat FitzGerald—­of course without letting him know that I had any ‘case’ in my mind’s eye.  From what I have gathered, Mrs. Krauss has been taking this drug for a long time—­and is past all help.”

“Then do you mean, Fuchsia, that I am to sit by, utterly helpless, whilst my aunt slowly puts herself to death?”

“Of course you might try various things.  You could make it your business to find out and destroy the hypodermic syringe—­or perhaps your aunt takes it in pellets.  I should interview the ayah and inform her that you know the nature of her mistress’s complaint; threaten that you will tell Mr. Krauss and have her discharged.  I expect she gets enormous wages and has feathered her nest handsomely.  If you could inveigle your aunt into taking a voyage to Australia, that might be of use.  But these are just suggestions; in any way that I can help or back you up I will.  All the same, I must return to my first statement, which is, that no matter how you strive, and hope and fear, your effort will come too late.”

CHAPTER XXXI

SEEING IS BELIEVING