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Weyman, Stanley John, 1855-1928

"Under the Red Robe"


Sliding it on to my thigh, I poised it, and flipped it.
This time my finger struck the tiny missile fairly in the middle,
and shot it so far and so truly that it dropped exactly in the
path ten paces in front of us. The moment I saw it fall I kicked
my neighbour's nag in the ribs; it started, and he, turning in a
rage, hit it. The next instant he pulled it almost on to its
haunches.
'SAINT GRIS!' he cried; and sat glaring at the bit of yellow
satin, with his face turned purple and his jaw fallen.
'What is it!' I said, staring at him in turn, 'What is the
matter, fool?'
'Matter?' he blurted out. 'MON DIEU!'
But Clon's excitement surpassed even his. The dumb man no sooner
saw what had attracted his comrade's attention, than he uttered
an inarticulate and horrible noise, and tumbling off his horse,
more like a beast than a man threw himself bodily on the precious
morsel.
The innkeeper was not far behind him. An instant and he was
down, too, peering at the thing; and for an instant I thought
that they would fight over it. However, though their jealousy
was evident, their excitement cooled a little when they
discovered that the scrap of stuff was empty; for, fortunately,
the pebble had fallen out of it.


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