Page:Gilbert Parker--The Lane that had No Turning.djvu/290

274 Then he poured out another portion of the dark tincture—the largest he had ever taken—and tossed it off.

That night he might have been seen feeling about the grass in a moon-lit garden. At last he put something in his pocket with a quick, harsh chuckle of satisfaction. It was a little black bottle with a well-worn cork.