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Quiller-Couch, Arthur Thomas, Sir, 1863-1944

"Poison Island"

A cry worked
in my throat, but before I could utter it his two hands were on my
shoulders, and he had appealed to the company with a triumphant
little laugh.
"Did I not tell you the child would come to himself all right? A
simple sedative--after the fright he had. He's trembling now, poor
boy. No, ma'am"--he turned to Plinny, who had risen, and was coming
forward solicitously; "let him sit upright for a moment, while he
comes to his bearings. Or, better still, when you have finished your
coffee--if Miss Belcher will be kind enough to pour it out for me--
we will take him out into the fresh air. Yes, yes, and the sooner
the better, for I see that Mr. Rogers is fidgeting to be out and
assure himself that the treasure has not taken wings."
He forced me gently back to my seat, and walked to the table.
"What were we saying? Ah, yes--to be sure--about the ice."
He lifted his coffee-cup with a steady hand, and, his eyes travelling
over it, fixed themselves on me, as though to make sure I was
recovering. "The ice is a surprise of Rosa's, and I assure you she
is proud of it. But (you may go, Rosa) I advise you to content
yourselves with wondering; for the water on these hills, strange to
say, is not healthy.


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