Carrington
perceived the glance, and, with a hasty movement, very unusual to him,
dropped his handkerchief upon the object.
The movement, rapid though it was, came too late, for Reginald
Eversleigh had distinguished the nature of the object which the surgeon
wished to conceal from him.
It was a mask of metal, with glass eyes.
"So you wear a mask when you are at work, eh, Carrington?" said Mr.
Eversleigh. "That looks as if you dabble in poisons."
"Half the agents employed in chemistry are poisonous," answered Victor,
coolly.
"I hope there is no danger in the atmosphere of this room just now?"
"None whatever. Come, Reginald, I am sure you have bad news to tell me,
or you would never have taken the trouble to come here."
"I have, and the worst news. My uncle has married this street ballad-
singer."
"Good; then we must try to turn this marriage to account."
"How so?"
"By making it the means of bringing about a reconciliation. You will
write a letter of congratulation to Sir Oswald--a generous letter--in
which you will speak of your penitence, your affection, the anguish you
have endured during this bitter period of estrangement. You can venture
to speak freely of these things now, you will say, for now that your
honoured uncle has found new ties you can no longer be suspected of any
mercenary motive. You can now approach him boldly, you will say, for
you have henceforward nothing to hope from him except his forgiveness.
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