Dick Birch soon returned to the house with a small covered basket in his hand, which he placed on the table in the library. He then brought from the dining-room a white plate, on which he deposited one of the homœopathic globules, and divided it into minute fragments. On one of these particles, with the pointed end of a glass pen-holder, he dropped an infinitesimal portion of strong sulphuric acid, a vial of which happened to be among the chemical stores of the library. Dick was not a practical chemist, and not a very skilful manipulator. Several times he referred to a volume, open on the table, for information; but evidently he was not laboring to advance the cause of science. He watched the experiment with as much interest as the philosophers of old watched the crucible in which the baser metals were to be transmuted to pure gold. He was anxious and troubled. The result of his chemical investigations was almost certain to create a storm at Pine Hill. While he was thus engaged, Eugene entered the library. “What are you about, Dick? What in the world are you going to do?” he asked. “I am trying an experiment,” replied Dick, as calmly as he could speak. “I was not aware before that you had any special taste for chemical science.” “I have not.” “What are you doing, then?” “Do you see this plate?” said the operator, pointing to the spot on the plate where he had deposited the acid. “I see it.” “I put a drop of sulphuric acid on one of the white particles. It was of a violet-blue color; now it is a mulberry-purple: let us wait.” “Now it is a light red,” added Eugene, when the spot again changed its color. “Dick, this is strychnia.” “Yes.” “What is the experiment? What are you doing this for?” “You see these?” continued Dick, in great agitation, as he took the paper of globules from his pocket. “I see them.” “They are the globules which I offered to Julia!” gasped Dick. “Well, what of it?” “I put one of them on the plate, and added a minute drop of sulphuric acid to a particle of one of them.” “What do you mean?” “I mean that these globules are pure strychnia--the globules that I offered to Julia.” “Merciful Heaven!” exclaimed Eugene, turning pale at the thought. “But you take them yourself.” “I never took any of these. If I had, I should have been in your new cemetery before this time,” replied Dick, with a ghastly smile. “Why don’t you speak, Dick, and tell me what you mean,” said Eugene, impatiently. “Of course I don’t believe you offered those globules to Julia, knowing them to be strychnia.” “I endeavored to persuade her to take them.” “You did, and Dr. Lynch protested.” “Why did he protest? _He_ knew they were strychnia; I did not. Neither the doctor nor myself intended to poison Julia--that is plain enough.” “He knew, and you did not,” repeated Eugene. “How should he know?” “Because he poured out the globules of belladonna from my vial, and substituted globules of strychnia for my especial benefit.”