When we reached her cottage and she said, "Would you like to see the stillroom now?" I was glad of the opportunity.

The stillroom was once a screened porch, now closed in, that enlarged the small square cottage into a rectangle. It had a terra-cotta floor that was warmed by the sun streaming in through two large casement windows. Some of the floor-to-ceiling shelves held large amber-colored jars, crocks, and urns, all labeled. Other shelves held dark glass bottles full of prepared tinctures and jars of oils and other materials used to create salves and lotions. There were rows of vials and jars of empty gelatin capsules arranged beside baskets filled with scoops, glass droppers, atomizers-all the paraphernalia of an old-fashioned stillroom, the household apothecary shop. A workbench stood along another wall, near a small two-burner gas countertop stove for heating herbal preparations. Above the workbench was an extensive shelf of reference books, old and new, and above that framed botanical prints. Bunches of dried herbs hung from the ceiling.

"This is very pleasant," I said, looking around. Perhaps, I could make a room like this for myself-if I had the time. "How many sisters work here?"

"Eight or ten," Mother said. "We have class once a week, and I assign them individual projects. They come here for two hours a week, on their own, to work. It's good experience for them, very educational, and of course they help prepare the salves and ointments and lotions that we use for…" Her voice trailed off. She brushed some loose leaves off the worktable and into a basket on the floor.

I regarded her. "You haven't been experimenting with foxglove, have you, Mother Winifred?"

She looked at me, and I noticed once again how pale and drawn she was. Her skin seemed cracked, like old glaze on a piece of pottery. "No, of course not." She straightened a row of lidded canisters, not looking at me. "You don't think… You really can't believe…"

"The symptoms of Sister Perpetua's illness," I said gently. "They sound like the symptoms of digitalis poisoning. Wouldn't you agree?"

Her mouth trembled. "Yes," she said finally, almost in a whisper. She turned to look out the window, across the sunny garden, where the two nuns who had accompanied us were bent over the culinary bed, cleaning off the frostbitten foliage. "To tell the truth, that thought did occur to me. In fact, it kept me up late last night."

"Had the doctor prescribed digitalis?"

"Not as far as I know." She turned around. "You can ask Sister Rowena, who manages the medications. But no, I'm sure he hadn't"

It was entirely possible that we were going in the wrong direction. But it wouldn't hurt to pursue it further-especially since a nonprescription source of digitalis was growing right in front of our eyes. "How many foxglove plants do you have in your apothecary garden?"

"Two," she said faintly.

"So it's possible that someone-perhaps one of the sisters who works here in the stillroom-could have harvested the leaves and prepared a tincture from them?" I glanced up at the row of jars. "Or filled some of those gel caps with the powdered leaf?"

"I suppose," she said slowly. "But you don't think that one of our sisters deliberately…"

"It might have been an accident," I said. "The leaves look something like comfrey. The two have often been confused."

"The comfrey is on the other side of our apothecary plot, well away from the foxglove. Both plants are clearly labeled. I don't see how anyone could have…" She gave a heavy sigh. ' 'I suppose I should tell you. A few weeks ago, Sister Dominica was weeding the apothecary garden. She brought me a foxglove leaf and asked me about it."

"What did she want to know?"

"She asked whether the toxin was in the leaves or the

root, and whether the plant could be confused with spinach."

"With spinach?" I asked. "I don't know of any spinach varieties that have hairy leaves. What did you tell her?"

"Someone came along at that moment and interrupted us. I don't believe I gave her an answer."

Dominica had also asked me about foxglove, just a few hours before Perpetua died. But her question to me came long after the digitalis-if that's what had killed Perpetua- had already been prepared and administered. I was sure Dominica hadn't had anything to do with the old nun's death. Still, her curiosity about foxglove had to have been prompted by something. What was it?

I went on to a different question. ' 'Did Doctor Townsend give you any reason to believe that he suspected digitalis poisoning?''

"No, but he barely spoke to me." She sat down on a wood bench in front of the window. "I suppose Margaret Mary has told you about our difficulties with the Townsend family." At my nod, she added, "I'm afraid Doctor Town-send is more interested in causing trouble than in finding out the truth. We wouldn't ask him to attend our sisters if there were another doctor in this area."

"But Townsend is also the JP," I reminded her. "If he wants to investigate a death, you can't keep him out of it."

"I know," she said. "I just wish…" She laced her fingers together and looked down at them.

"Well, if it's any comfort," I said, "he probably won't be doing the autopsy. I'm sure Carr County doesn't have the facilities to test for serum digoxin levels. He's likely sent the body to Bexar County-which means it'll be Wednesday or Thursday before there's any news." I stirred. I needed to add Dominica to my list of people to talk to, and Sister Rowena, the inftrrnarian. But first I had to deal with Sister John Roberta and Dwight.

"I have to make a phone call later this afternoon," I said. "May I use the telephone in Sophia?"

"Of course," Mother said. She stood up. "Or the one in my cottage, as you prefer."

"The office phone will be better," I said. "I don't want to be overheard." I paused. "I need to talk to Dwight's probation officer."

"Probation officer?" Mother was startled. "You mean. Dwight has been in prison!"

"You didn't know?"

She shook her head. "Hilaria must have known, but she didn't mention it. I suppose she thought the idea might make the sisters… nervous." She pressed her pale lips together. "What kind of crime did he commit?"

"I don't know. I wonder-does Dwight have a personnel file?"

"Yes. After you told me you wanted to search his cottage, I found it. There's not much in it, though. What did you discover when you went through his things? Do you think he might be our arsonist?''

"I don't know yet," I said. I thought of the Camels and the rifle I had seen in his truck. "It does look like he's the guy who shot at me yesterday afternoon, though." I paused. "And I found Mother Hilaria's diary under his mattress."

"So that's what happened to it!" she exclaimed. "But why would Dwight have taken a diary?"

"Perhaps because he didn't want anyone to read about his continuing disagreements with Mother Hilaria. She gave him a raise, but he seems to have wanted a promotion."

Mother Winifred stood and began to walk up and down. "He wants to be farm manager," she said. "He's asked me twice, and I turned him down both times. I'd no idea he approached Hilaria as well."

"Mother Hilaria noted that he threatened her. Has he said anything to you that could be construed as a threat?''

"Not exactly. But he has been rather forceful." She shook her head. ' 'Hilaria should have mentioned it, but she kept her own counsel about things like that."

But Mother Hilaria hadn't kept her own counsel where

the letters were concerned. Questioned Sr. O about Sr. P's letter. "If Mother Hilaria had needed to discipline one of the St. Agatha sisters," I asked, "how would she have handled it? Would she have spoken to the sister directly, or would she have asked Olivia to intercede?"