He knows a drink would stop the pain." "Ah," said Festing quietly.

"I think I understand! You have made a good fight, Bob, and I believe you've won.

But we'll take precautions; it will be some satisfaction to throw out the stuff." He went to the door, but Charnock stopped him.
"Hold on! I mean to keep the satisfaction to myself.

Give me the cursed thing!" Festing put the bottle in his hand, and opening the door Charnock swung it round his head and let it go.

There was a crash as it struck a tree, and he went back to his chair.
"That's done with! It's remarkable, but I don't feel as sore as I did.
Perhaps the effort of resisting was a counter-irritant.