“Are you certain that your dose will be sure to effect its purpose?” asked Woodward.
“As sure as I am of life,” replied the old sinner; “one glass of it would settle a man as soon as it would a dog;” and as he spoke he fastened his keen, glittering eyes upon Woodward. The glance seemed to say, I understand you, and I know that the dog you are about to give the dose to walks upon two legs instead of four.
“Now,” said Woodward after having secured the bottle, “here are your five pounds, and mark me——” he looked sternly in the face of the herbalist, but added not another word.
The herbalist, having secured the money and deposited it in his pocket, said, with a malicious grin,
“Couldn't you, Mr. Woodward, have prevented yourself from going to the expense of five pounds for poisoning a dog, that you could have shot without all this expense?”
Woodward looked at him. “Your life,” said he, “will not be worth a day's purchase if you breathe a syllable of what took place between us this night. Sol Donnel, I am a desperate man, otherwise I would not have come to you. Keep the secret between us, for, if you divulge it, you may take my word for it that you will not survive it twenty-four hours. Now, be warned, for I am both resolute and serious.”
The herbalist felt the energy of his language and was subdued.
“No,” he replied, “I shall never breathe it; kill your dog in your own way; all I can say is, that half a glass of it would kill the strongest horse in your stable; only let me remark that I gave you the bottle to kill a dog!”
“Now,” thought Barney Casey, “what can all this mean? There is none of the dogs wrong. He is at some devil's work; but what it is I do not know; I shall watch him well, however, and it will go hard or I shall find out his purpose.”
As Woodward was about to depart he mused for a time, and at length addressed the herbalist.