His other hand was on the alchemist's throat, and it might have fared ill with him had Robert not climbed through the window and dragged his father off from him.

With the aid of Haw, he pinned the old man down, and passed a long cravat around his arms.

It was terrible to look at him, for his face was convulsed, his eyes bulging from his head, and his lips white with foam.
Haw leaned against the glass table panting, with his hand to his side.
"You here, Robert ?" he gasped.

"Is it not horrible?
How did you come ?" "I followed him.

I heard him go out." "He would have robbed me.