"When he reached home, he took the dead snake into his smoking-room;
then, locking the door, the idiot set out his prescription. He arranged
the monster in a very natural and life-like position. It appeared to be
crawling from the open window across the floor, and any one coming into
the room suddenly could hardly avoid treading on it. It was very
cleverly done.
"That finished, he picked out a book from the shelves, opened it, and
laid it face downward upon the couch. When he had completed all things
to his satisfaction he unlocked the door and came out, very pleased with
himself.
"After dinner he lit a cigar and sat smoking a while in silence.
"'Are you feeling tired?' he said to her at length, with a smile.
"She laughed, and, calling him a lazy old thing, asked what it was he
wanted.
"'Only my novel that I was reading. I left it in my den. Do you mind?
You will find it open on the couch.'
"She sprang up and ran lightly to the door.
"As she paused there for a moment to look back at him and ask the name of
the book, he thought how pretty and how sweet she was; and for the first
time a faint glimmer of the true nature of the thing he was doing forced
itself into his brain.
"'Never mind,' he said, half rising, 'I'll--'; then, enamoured of the
brilliancy of his plan, checked himself; and she was gone.
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