He took up the work “On Poisons.” He had hastily thrown it from him when startled by the unexpected appearance of Chewkle.
He gazed with a self-possessed aspect at the book, opened it, closed it with a smart clap, and then, walking with a firm step to his bookcase, he replaced it.
“I shall not now need its aid,” he muttered.
Then he sat himself by his library table. After musing a moment or two, he jerked his head once or twice, and ejaculated—
“What a scoundrel that fellow Chewkle is!”
Then he calmly applied himself to the perusal of some letters.
CHAPTER VI.—THE COVETED HEART BESTOWED.
She saw it waxing very pale and dead,