With Edged Tools by Henry Seton Merriman
page 37 of 465 (07%)
page 37 of 465 (07%)
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the light unconsciousness of the traveller; for a sound so small,
that waking ears could scarce have heard it, caused him to lift his lashes cautiously. It was the sound of bare feet on carpet. Through his lashes Guy Oscard saw his father standing on the hearthrug within two yards of him. There was something strange, something unnatural and disturbing, about the movements of the man that made Guy keep quite still--watching him. Upon the mantelpiece the medicine bottles were arranged in a row, and the "eccentric Oscard" was studying the labels with a feverish haste. One bottle--a blue one--bore two labels: the smaller, of brilliant orange colour, with the word "Poison" in startling simplicity. He took this up and slowly drew the cork. It was a liniment for neuralgic pains in an overwrought head--belladonna. He poured some into a medicine-glass, carefully measuring two tablespoonsful. Then Guy Oscard sprang up and wrenched the glass away from him, throwing the contents into the fire, which flared up. Quick as thought the bottle was at the sick man's lips. He was a heavily built man with powerful limbs. Guy seized his arm, closed with him, and for a moment there was a deadly struggle, while the pungent odour of the poison filled the atmosphere. At last Guy fell back on art: he tripped his father cleverly, and they both rolled on the floor. The sick man still gripped the bottle, but he could not get it to his lips. He poured some of the stuff over his son's face, but fortunately missed his eyes. They struggled on the floor in the dim |
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