McClintock stared into the bowl of his pipe and Spurlock into his coffee cup. During the narration Jack's features lighted up, and an expression, which would have been in vain looked for in repose, was instantly caught and depicted by the skilful artist. I am not sure, but I believe that he has just thought of something. . It was his turn to express astonishment. "Ah!" exclaimed Jack, starting to his feet. He started a dozen stories, but they all ended in the waste-basket. "She is in his power, and I am here, chained hand and foot, unable to assist her. Then suddenly he seized a new preparation bottle that stood upon his table and contained the better part of a week’s work—a displayed dissection of a snail, beautifully done—and hurled it across the room, to smash resoundingly upon the cemented floor under the bookcase; then, without either haste or pause, he swept his arm along a shelf of re-agents and sent them to mingle with the debris on the floor.
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