In half an hour more the mixture was ready. She carried it up to him,
foaming and fragrant, in a large tumbler. "He will sleep after this,"
she thought to herself, as she opened the door; "I have made it stronger
than usual on purpose."
He had changed his place. He was sitting at the table in the
corner--still with his back to her, writing. This time his quick ears
had not served him; this time she caught him in the fact.
"Oh, Mr. Noel! Mr. Noel!" she said, reproachfully, "what is your promise
worth?"
He made no answer. He was sitting with his left elbow on the table, and
with his head resting on his left hand. His right hand lay back on the
paper, with the pen lying loose in it. "Your drink, Mr. Noel," she said,
in a kinder tone, feeling unwilling to offend him. He took no notice of
her. She went to the table to rouse him. Was he deep in thought?
He was dead!
THE END OF THE FIFTH SCENE.
BETWEEN THE SCENES.
PROGRESS OF THE STORY THROUGH THE POST.
I.
_From Mrs. Noel Vanstone to Mr. Loscombe._
"Park Terrace, St. John's Wood, November 5th.
"DEAR SIR--I came to London yesterday for the purpose of seeing a
relative, leaving Mr.
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