he'll do now.” Dr. Graham stepped back, wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and breathed a sigh of relief.

“You think she'll be all right, sir?” Tim demanded anxiously.

“Yes, yes. We got to her in good time. Anyway, she probably didn't take enough to kill her. A couple of days and she'll be as right as rain but she'll have a rather nasty day or two first.” He picked up the empty bottle. “Who gave her these things anyway?”

“A doctor in New York. She wasn't sleeping well.”

“Well, well. I know all we medicos hand these things out freely nowadays. Nobody tells young women who can't sleep to count sheep, or get up and eat a biscuit, or write a couple of letters and then go back to bed. Instant remedies, that's what people demand nowadays. Sometimes I think it's a pity we give them to them. You've got to learn to put up with things in life. All very well to stuff a comforter into a baby's mouth to stop it crying. Can't go on doing that all a person's life.” He gave a small chuckle. “I bet you, if you asked Miss Marple what she does if she can't sleep, she'd tell you she counted sheep going under a gate.” He turned back to the bed where Molly was stirring. Her eyes were open now. She looked at them without interest or recognition. Dr. Graham took her hand.

“Well, well, my dear, and what have you been doing to yourself?”

She blinked but did not reply.

“Why did you do it, Molly, why? Tell me why?” Tim took her other hand.

Still her eyes did not move. If they rested on anyone it was on Evelyn Hillingdon.

There might have been even a faint question in them but it was hard to tell.

Evelyn spoke as though there had been the question.

“Tim came and fetched me,” she said.

Her eyes went to Tim, then shifted to Dr. Graham.

“You're going to be all right now,” said Dr. Graham, “but don't do it again.”

“She didn't mean to do it,” said Tim quietly. “I'm sure she didn't mean to do it. She just wanted a good night's rest. Perhaps the pills didn't work at first and so she took more of them. Is that it, Molly?”

Her head moved very faintly in a negative motion.

“You mean you took them on purpose?” said Tim.

Molly spoke then. “Yes,” she said.

“But why, Molly, why?”

The eyelids faltered. “Afraid.” The word was just heard.

“Afraid? Of what?”

But her eyelids closed down.

“Better let her be,” said Dr. Graham.

Tim spoke impetuously. “Afraid of what? The police? Because they've been hounding you, asking you questions? I don't wonder. Anyone might feel frightened. But it's just their way, that's all. Nobody thinks for one moment-” he broke off.

Dr. Graham made him a decisive gesture.

“I want to go to sleep,” said Molly.

“The best thing for you,” said Dr. Graham.

He moved to the door and the others followed him.

“She'll sleep all right,” said Graham.

“Is there anything I ought to do?” asked Tim. He had the usual, slightly apprehensive attitude of a man in illness.

“I'll stay if you like,” said Evelyn kindly.

“Oh no. No, that's quite all right,” said Tim.

Evelyn went back towards the bed. “Shall I stay with you, Molly?”

Molly's eyes opened again. She said, “No,” and then after a pause, “just Tim.”

Tim came back and sat down by the bed.

“I'm here, Molly,” he said and took her hand.

“Just go to sleep. I won't leave you.”

She sighed faintly and her eyes closed.

The doctor paused outside the bungalow and the Hillingdons stood with him.

“You're sure there's nothing more I can do?” asked Evelyn.

“I don't think so, thank you, Mrs. Hillingdon. She'll be better with her husband now. But possibly tomorrow-after all, he's got this hotel to run-I think someone should be with her.”

“D'you think she might-try again?” asked Hillingdon.

Graham rubbed his forehead irritably. “One never knows in these cases. Actually, it's most unlikely. As you've seen for yourselves, the restorative treatment is extremely unpleasant. But of course one can never be absolutely certain. She may have more of this stuff hidden away somewhere.”

“I should never have thought of suicide in connection with a girl like Molly,” said Hillingdon.

Graham said dryly, “It's not the people who are always talking of killing themselves, threatening to do so, who do it. They dramatise themselves that way and let off steam.”

“Molly always seemed such a happy girl. I think perhaps”-Evelyn hesitated-“I ought to tell you Dr. Graham.” She told him then about her interview with Molly on the beach the night that Victoria had been killed.

Graham's face was very grave when she had finished.

“I'm glad you've told me, Mrs. Hillingdon. There are very definite indications there of some kind of deep-rooted trouble. Yes. I'll have a word with her husband in the morning.”