“That?” cried Deering, leaning over the table a little, as he sat facing the place lately occupied by Vane. “That?” he said again, excitedly, and then changing his tone, “Oh, nonsense, boy, only a fly-spot in the plan, or a tiny speck of ink.”
“Yes, smudged,” cried Vane; “but, look here,” and he doubled the tracing down on the table; “but they’ve made it into a little stop-cock here.”
“What?” roared Deering.
“And if that wasn’t in your machine, of course it blew up same as my waterpipes did in the conservatory, and wrecked the kitch—”
Vane did not finish his sentence, for the inventor sprang up with the edge of the table in his hands, throwing up the top and sending the lamp off on to the floor with a crash, while he fell backward heavily into his chair, as if seized by a fit.
Chapter Thirty Five.
Mrs Lee is Incredulous.
“Help, help,” cried Aunt Hannah, excitedly, as the lamp broke on the floor, and there was a flash of flame as the spirit exploded, some having splashed into the fire, and for a few minutes it seemed as if the fate of the Little Manor was sealed.