The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 400: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A NIGHT ADVENTURE d80 and then if she says nothing more, I shall consider it’s all right.”’ Lady Saxondale resumed her seat, and sank languidly back in the chair, Tony Wilkins still remaining close by her side, and still preserving a vigilant watch over her. She took from the table her snowy white pocket-handkerchief, which was elaborately embroidered all along the hems and worked with a coronet in each corner. ‘Then, still with lan- suid movements, she unscrewed the silver top which covered the glass stopper of the bottle. We should observe that the bottle itself was a small one of cut glass, and contained a white fluid instead of the crystallized salts usually seen in scent-bottles. Tony Wilkins naturally thought this white fluid must be some very delicious perfume; when, however, Lady Saxondale drew out the glass stopper, the odour emitted by the fluid was by no means of an agreeable taste, but, on the contrary, was pungent, powerful, and unpleasant. That Lady Saxondale herself entertained a similar opinion appeared to be indicated by the circumstance that while pouring a little of this white fluid upon her pocket- handkerchief she held both handkerchiei and bottle as far away from her nose as possible. ‘Then she hastily put in the glass stopper again, and placed the bottle on the table, but in so doing, she dropped the handkerchief. “Pick it up for me,” she said, 1n a very faint voice, and she now looked as if she were going off in a swoon. Tony Wilkins really and truly believed that such was the case, and while in a very guarded manner, so as not to be taken unawares, he stooped down and picked up the hand- kerchief, he said to himself, ‘‘ I’m hanged if this is gammon; it’s her nerves as does it, I suppose.”’ He accordingly picked up the kerchief with the hand that held the pistol, and was about to present 1t to her ladyship, when the latter said, ‘in a tone of affable condescension, ‘‘ You are welcome to smell it if you like. The perfume is of a rare character.” By a very natural and mechanical movement, Tony Wil- kins applied the handkerchief to his nose, but scarcely had he done so when an overpowering sensation seized upon him with the suddenness of a lightning flash, he gave one gasp in an abortive effort to cry out, handkerchief, pistol, and clasp-knife fell from his hands, and he dropped down upon the carpet as if stricken dead with apoplexy. — CONnNIELDOOKS (C(O)