Free Antidote to Venom by Freeman Wills Crofts

he’ll be all right presently.”
    The girl nodded. “He’s in the study, sir.”
    George went to the study. Old Burnaby was sitting in his chair, staring vacantly out of the window. He did not move as George came up.
    â€œI called to see if I could do anything,” George repeated. “I’ve just heard this moment.”
    Professor Burnaby made no reply. He slowly turned his head and for a moment looked dully at George, then faintly shook his head and resumed his fixed stare out of the window.
    George felt the old man would rather be alone, but he looked so shaken and frail that he scarcely liked to leave him. He decided to get Marr to see him, and sat down to wait till the doctor should come downstairs. Burnaby took no further notice of him. Once or twice his lips moved, but George could not make out what he was saying.
    A few minutes later he heard Marr on the stairs and went out. “Well?” he asked, in a low voice.
    Marr shook his head. “Instantaneous,” he returned, also speaking softly. “A fractured skull and crushed—” He swept his hand diagonally across his chest. “At least there was no suffering.”
    â€œI think you should have a look at Burnaby,” went on George. “He seems pretty hard hit.”
    â€œWhere is he?”
    â€œIn there.”
    Marr disappeared into the study and George hung about the hall, discussing the affair in low tones with the policeman. He did not like to go till he had heard Marr’s report. This, he thought, would end the old man’s research. After such a shock he would never have the stamina to continue work. And how much better it would be for all concerned if the work did stop! George had never liked all the handling of the snakes. He had feared an accident: either that someone would be bitten or that a snake would escape. It would certainly be an ease to his mind if Burnaby never again entered the reptile house.
    Presently Marr reappeared. “He’ll be all right,” he pronounced. “I’ve told him to go to bed and I’ll send a nurse to see that he does it.”
    â€œWho’s going to look after things for him?”
    â€œThere’s a nephew, a solicitor named Capper. I’ve ’phoned for him. He can make the arrangements and the nurse can stay for a day or two.”
    â€œThere’ll be an inquest?”
    â€œOh yes. But it’ll be formal. It seems to have been poor Joyce’s fault.” He looked over his shoulder. “That all you want now, sergeant?”
    â€œThat’s all, thank you, sir.”
    â€œThen I’ll go.” He turned again to George. “I’m going down town. Can I give you a lift?”
    They discussed the accident and Burnaby’s future for some time, then Marr made a remark which set George’s heart beating quickly.
    â€œNo,” said the doctor, slowly, “I don’t think the old fellow will survive this very long. It’s been a great shock to him and his heart’s not too strong. And there’s another person whom I’m afraid won’t be with us long. I’m sorry to tell you, Surridge, that your aunt, Miss Pentland, is seriously ill.”
    George gripped himself. “I’m sorry to hear that, Marr,” he said, as steadily as he could, “terribly sorry. But I can’t pretend it’s much of a surprise. I’ve noticed how ill she’s been looking and I’ve been going to ask you about her.”
    â€œYes,” returned Marr, “I’ve suspected it for some time and now I’m sure. It’s cancer, and we can’t operate, even if she could have stood it.”
    George strove to steady the beating of his heart. He was not wholly callous and he found himself really distressed at the poor old lady’s fate. But he was also human, and little surges of an almost painful joy shot through him. His aunt’s death would be for her a happy