“Well?” asked the colonel, though he could guess what was coming.
“Why, I haven't drawn a book from the library here for a long time,” went on Viola. “I did once or twice, but that was when the library was first opened, some years ago. This postal is dated a week ago, but the maid just gave it to me.”
“Very likely it was mislaid.”
“That's what I supposed. But I went at once to the library, and I found that the book had been taken out on my card. And, oh, Colonel Ashley, it is a book on—poisons!”
“I know it, my dear.”
“You know it! And did you think—”
“Now don't get excited. Come, I'll show you the very book. It's been here for some time, and I've known all about it. In fact I have a copy of it that I got from New York. There isn't anything to be worried about.”
“But a book on poisons—poisonous plants it is, as I found out at the library—and poor father was killed by some mysterious poison! Oh—”
She was rapidly verging on an attack of hysterics, and the colonel led her gently to the dining room whence, in a little while, she emerged, pale, but otherwise self-possessed.
“Then you really want Aunt Mary and me to go away?” she asked.