 | XV. Edwin Brothertoft |  |
15. XV.
Half past eight, and the two majors still sat
vis-à-vis in the dining-room.
“I am tired of this,” thought Skerrett. “I
have had enough of swallowing bumpers to this
fellow's `buppers.' I have heard enough of his
foulness, his boasts, and his drivel. I could
never have been patient so long except for the
lady's sake. Every word and look of his is an
imperative command to me to make sure of her
safety. Yes, yes, Voltaire! You need n't nod
and wink that she is ready and anxious. Ten
minutes more, to be positive that my men are
come, — and then, Major, please the Goddess of
Liberty, I 'll forbid your banns, and walk off
with your person. I 'm sorry for you, brute as
you are. And you will not like your wineless
quarters with Old Put.”
Monstrous long minutes, those final ten! At
the rate of a thousand a minute, shades of doubt
drifted across Peter's mind.
Who has not known suspense and its miseries?
— something hanging over him by a hair,
Peter Skerrett! The pendulum ticks. It checks
off the minutes, surely.
And while those minutes pass, tipsy Jierck
Dewitt is at work in the cellar, trying to drown
the misery that this guilty house has caused him.
The ten were almost ended, when Brothertoft
started to search for the stray leader, that other
victim of a woman's disloyalty.
It was in the very last of the ten that Mrs.
Brothertoft turned suddenly and saw an unknown
face staring in at her, as she sat in the
dusky parlor.
Time was up. Major Skerrett walked quietly
to the window, threw up the sash, opened the
shutters, and whistled in his men.
Three only came leaping in at the summons.
| XV. Edwin Brothertoft | |