perform her instructions, seal them, and put
them back again, by scientific assistance—which
assistance I rendered in a half-ounce bottle.
The second occasion when the same means were
employed was the occasion (to which I shall
soon refer) of Lady Glyde's arrival in London.
Never, at any other time, was I indebted to my
Art, as distinguished from myself. To all other
emergencies and complications my natural capacity
for grappling, single-handed, with circumstances,
was invariably equal. I affirm the
all-pervading intelligence of that capacity. At the
expense of the Chemist, I vindicate the Man.

Respect this outburst of generous indignation.
It has inexpressibly relieved me. En route!
Let us proceed.

Having suggested to Mrs. Clement (or
Clements, I am not sure which) that the best method
of keeping Anne out of Percival's reach was
to remove her to London; having found that
my proposal was eagerly received; and having
appointed a day to meet the travellers at the
station, and to see them leave it—I was at
liberty to return to the house, and to confront
the difficulties which still remained to be met.

My first proceeding was to avail myself of
the sublime devotion of my wife. I had
arranged with Mrs. Clements that she should
communicate her London address, in Anne's
interests, to Lady Glyde. But this was not enough.
Designing persons, in my absence, might shake
the simple confidence of Mrs. Clements, and she
might not write, after all. Who could I find
capable of travelling to London by the train she
travelled by, and of privately seeing her home?
I asked myself this question. The conjugal
part of me immediately answered—Madame
Fosco.

After deciding on my wife's mission to London,
I arranged that the journey should serve
a double purpose. A nurse for the suffering
Marian, equally devoted to the patient and to
myself, was a necessity of my position. One
of the most eminently confidential and capable
women in existence, was by good fortune at
my disposal. I refer to that respectable matron,
Madame Rubelle—to whom I addressed a letter,
at her residence in London, by the hands of my
wife.

On the appointed day, Mrs. Clements and
Anne Catherick met me at the station. I
politely saw them off. I politely saw Madame
Fosco off by the same train. The last thing at
night, my wife returned to Blackwater, having
followed her instructions with the most unimpeachable
accuracy. She was accompanied by
Madame Rubelle; and she brought me the
London address of Mrs. Clements. After-events
proved this last precaution to have been unnecessary.
Mrs. Clements punctually informed
Lady Glyde of her place of abode. With a
wary eye on future emergencies, I kept the
letter.

The same day, I had a brief interview with
the doctor, at which I protested, in the sacred
interests of humanity, against his treatment of
Marian's case. He was insolent, as all ignorant
people are. I showed no resentment; I deferred
quarrelling with him till it was necessary to
quarrel to some purpose.

My next proceeding was to leave Blackwater
myself. I had my London residence to take, in
anticipation of coming events. I had also a
little business, of the domestic sort, to transact
with Mr. Frederick Fairlie. I found the house
I wanted, in St. John's Wood. I found Mr.
Fairlie at Limmeridge, Cumberland.

My own private familiarity with the nature
of Marian's correspondence, had previously
informed me that she had written to Mr. Fairlie,
proposing, as a relief to Lady Glyde's matrimonial
embarrassments, to take her on a visit to her
uncle in Cumberland. This letter I had wisely
allowed to reach its destination; feeling, at the
time, that it could do no harm, and might do
good. I now presented myself before Mr.
Fairlie, to support Marian's own proposal—with
certain modifications which, happily for the
success of my plans, were rendered really
inevitable by her illness. It was necessary that
Lady Glyde should leave Blackwater alone, by
her uncle's invitation, and that she should rest
a night on the journey, at her aunt's house (the
house I had taken in St. John's Wood), by her
uncle's express advice. To achieve these results,
and to secure a note of invitation which could
be shown to Lady Glyde, were the objects of my
visit to Mr. Fairlie. When I have mentioned
that this gentleman was equally feeble in mind
and body, and that I let loose the whole force of
my character on him, I have said enough. I
came, saw, and conquered Fairlie.

On my return to Blackwater Park (with the
letter of invitation) I found that the doctor's
imbecile treatment of Marian's case had led
to the most alarming results. The fever had
turned to Typhus. Lady Glyde, on the day of
my return, tried to force herself into the room
to nurse her sister. She and I had no affinities
of sympathy; she had committed the unpardonable
outrage on my sensibilities of calling me
a Spy; she was a stumbling-block in my way
and in Percival's—but, for all that, my magnanimity
forbade me to put her in danger of infection
with my own hand. At the same time, I
offered no hindrance to her putting herself in
danger. If she had succeeded in doing so, the
intricate knot which I was slowly and patiently
operating on, might perhaps have been cut, by
circumstances. As it was, the doctor interfered,
and she was kept out of the room.

I had myself previously recommended sending
for advice to London. This course had been now
taken. The physician, on his arrival, confirmed
my view of the case. The crisis was serious. But
we had hope of our charming patient on the fifth
day from the appearance of the Typhus. I was
only once absent from Blackwater at this time
—when I went to London by the morning train,
to make the final arrangements at my house in
St. John's Wood; to assure myself, by private
enquiry, that Mrs. Clements had not moved; and
to settle one or two little preliminary matters