CHAPTER XXI
THE POISON FRUIT
It was curiously like the old days to see Jake enter the parlour on the following morning with Chops the red setter at his heels. But for Chops' delighted welcome of her, Maud could almost have felt that the intervening weeks had been no more than a dream.
She sat in her accustomed place and fondled him. Them, as Jake passed her, she put out a detaining hand.
"Good morning, Jake!"
Her face was burning; yet she lifted it. He stood a second, only a second, behind her chair; then bent and touched her forehead with his lips.
"You're down early," he said. "Have you slept?"
She nodded, feeling her agitation subside with thankfulness. "How is--The Hundredth Chance?"
Jake went to the fire. "I think he'll be all right; but I won't trust anyone else to look after him. By the way, here's a letter for you!"
He held it out to her behind his back. She took it. Her fingers closed upon a crest.