course, by his previous illness, as in health he was a good sailor, and the injection I gave was certain to cause obstinate vomiting, and would also seriously affect his heart. But it all had to appear very natural; life on ship-board being so narrow and confined that every soul knows practically every detail of the life and doings of everybody else.
My arrangement worked well, however, and that evening as we steamed merrily along with a fresh breeze on our starboard quarter, Currie came to me, and said: "Toillet's ver-ry bad. This weather's made him sick—mortal sick."
"That's serious," I answered. "Where's his wife?"
"Oh, she's down, lookin' afther him," answered the well-meaning old chap. "She's a real good one after all, if it's a bonâ fide illness."
"So she is," I said. "Let's go and see her."
The patient looked bad, very bad indeed. His face had become dusky and drawn, and he was constantly sick; I hardly thought the one dose would have had such an effect.
Mrs. Toillet looked at me—just one glance, but sufficient. She guessed, and she gave a
