He kept on talking softly as he took out a bottle and glasses from a cellarette, filled a couple, set the bottle down again, and carried the glasses out; and as the door swung to, Chester caught up the bottle quickly, held it to his lips, and gulped down a mouthful.
“Hah!” he muttered, as he set the brandy down and sank back in the chair; “that is stimulating. But how strange that I should feel like this. Ugh!”
He shuddered, for a cold chill ran through him, and the sensation of fear increased.
“Can it be something threatening her?” he muttered. “How strange! I have not felt like this since I lost my first patient,” and the chill of coming dissolution seemed to hang in the air.
“Pooh! Fancy. It is a slight chill. That brandy will soon take it off.”
The voices reached him again, and the steps were heard outside; then the front door was closed, and the old man came in smiling.
“Always at such inconvenient times,” he said. “Generally when I am studying some intricate passage by an old author; but to-day when I have had my first visitor for months. I’m afraid you have found me very long.”
“Oh no, don’t name it,” said Chester, hurriedly, “but—”
“Ah! your kindness of heart makes you speak thus,” said the old man, hastily. “Two heavy chests of books, and I was obliged to make the men take them downstairs, or they would block the passage. But now for the glass of wine and our chat.”
“I’m afraid that I shall be obliged to ask you to excuse me to-day,” said Chester, who had risen.