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"Then you want him to meet his fate of life in death!" said Etwald, curtly. Elinor made no reply. Her eyes were fixed on the lovely fading panorama of life that was shifting before them. The twilight, the sunset, and the haunting magic of the miracle play still lingering with them, touched them all into sudden seriousness, and they stood silent and intent, forgetful of the whirl of pleasure and traffic that swept about them. "Lunch time!" repeated David, warmly. "I'm aiming to survive till at least five minutes after! Think of all the good things we're going to massacre. Where does Elinor want to go, Miss Pat? She didn't nominate it in her note!".

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Elinor was waiting for them, and Patricia could see that she was in a state of great agitation. She hurried to her, while her companion dropped behind to exchange notes with one of the men from the composition room. The hour I sat in the garden and talked to Judge Wade must have brought grey hairs to my head if it was daylight and I could see them. Ruth Clinton had said good-bye with the loveliest haunted look in her great dark eyes, and I had felt as if I had killed something that was alive. Dr. John had been called from his coffee to a patient and had gone with just a friendly word of good night, and the others had at last left the judge and me alone—also in the moonlight, which I wished in my heart somebody would put out. "A poison-wand!" echoed Etwald, a sudden light showing in his cold eyes. "I never heard of such a thing." "I guessed as much," said Jen, grimly. "And who drugged you?".