Of course, I understand perfectly myself why he did; but, for himself, all he could say was that he supposed the word Poison happened to meet his mood.

He had honestly done with the mouse just now; he had no other very critical case, and he thought he might as well look at the poisoned young man for an instant, before finally despatching him to Dr.Foster, six miles further on.
When he came into the study ten minutes later he found the party ranged to meet him.

A girl was sitting on a box in the corner by the window, and stood up to receive him; a young man was sitting back in a Windsor chair, with one boot off, jerking spasmodically; his eyes stared unmeaningly before him.

A tallish, lean man of a particularly unprepossessing appearance was leaning over him with an air of immense solicitude.

They were all three evidently of the tramp-class.
What they saw--with the exception of Frank, I expect, who was too far gone to notice anything--was a benignant-looking old man, very shabby, in an alpaca jacket, with a rusty velvet cap on his head, and very bright short-sighted eyes behind round spectacles.