And thus, as evening drew nigh,
we came to the top of a hill. Here he stopped all at once and taking
off his dilapidated hat, pointed with it up at the thing that rose
above us, looming against the sunset-glory, beam, cross-bar and chain.
"Look at that!" quoth he, staring up at something hideously warped and
weather-beaten and clasped round with iron bands,--an awful shape that
dangled from rusting chain. "But for my light heels--I might have come
to that--and yet why not--his troubles are over. So in a year--six
months--who knows,--there hang I--"
"God forbid, Anthony?" cried I.
Now at this he whirled round and, clapping his two hands upon my
shoulders, burst forth into vehement oaths to my deep amazement until
I saw the tears in his haggard eyes.
"....Curse and confound it!" he ended. "Why must you call me Anthony!"
"Because it is the only name I know you by, for one thing."
"Well!" said he, blinking and scowling savagely.
"And because I like the name of Anthony."
"Oh! egad do you? Well, I like the name Peregrine."
"Good!" said I, and we walked on down the hill together. "My other
name is Vereker," I volunteered, seeing he was silent.
"Vereker?" he repeated and stopped to stare at me. "No relation to Sir
Jervas Vereker?"
"His nephew!"
"The devil you are!" And here he stood looking down at me from his
superior height, rasping his fingers up and down his thin, unshaven
cheek like one quite dumbfounded.
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