‘My poor gal’s Bible,’ he said. ‘She was mighty fond o’ readin’ it at times.’
Josh eyed the outside of the Bible curiously.
‘They say it’s a hinvallyable book,’ he muttered; ‘but it don’t look up to much. I should’a thought a hinvallyable book’ud a been bound in red or green and had a lot o’ gold about it. This here’s worth about fourpence, I should say. But she thought a lot on it, poor gal; and I ain’t going never to part with it for her sake.’
Josh put the took back again without opening it. He couldn’t have read what was in it if he had. And yet there Was that in his dead daughter’s Bible which, had he known it, Would have made his greedy eyes glisten and his evil heart beat quicker.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
A BUNCH OF VIOLETS.
Dr. Oliver Birnie, as the medical adviser of Mr. Gurth Egerton, called upon him now and then at his residence, and sometimes kept his brougham waiting outside while doctor and patient had a friendly chat.
It was on one of these now frequent occasions that Mr. Egerton revealed to his old friend an idea which, vague at first, had at last begun to assume definite proportions.
‘Birnie,’ said Mr. Egerton, one morning, flinging away his cigarette and looking straight in the doctor’s face, ‘I want something to do.’
‘Do you? Well, I can’t give you anything, I’m afraid. My present coachman suits me admirably, and my boy delivers the medicines without a mistake.’
‘I’m serious, Birnie,’ said Gurth, thrusting his hands deeply into his pockets and walking up and down the room. ‘I’m sick of this humdrum existence. I’ve travelled and got tired of it, and now I want a change—I want something to do.’