And then Anthony
sneezed violently. The man stood rigid, thumb at mouth, peering.
"'Oo's there?" he demanded gruffly, and began to advance, head bowed
and arms squared in a posture of offence.
In one moment, as it seemed, Anthony was upon him; ensued a scrape of
feet, a thudding of blows, a strangled cry, and they were down,
rolling upon the gravel and with never a chance for me to get in a
stroke with my unwieldy hedge stake. At last Anthony arose, panting a
little and smiling grimly, looking from the man's inert form to his
own bleeding knuckles.
"This," he whispered breathlessly, "this is doing me--power o' good!
Toughish customer--forced to give him--tap with pistol butt. How about
the fellow Ben?"
"No, no, Anthony! The door yonder--quick--this way!"
I remember a long, dim-lit passage, a narrow stair, and we found
ourselves in a broad and spacious hall where shaded lamps burned and
nude statues gleamed against rich hangings.
Borne to our ears came a jingle of glasses, the line of a song and
boisterous laughter. A door opened suddenly and a man stepped into the
hall, his bulky figure outlined against the lights of the room behind
him, but he paused upon the threshold to glance back and flourish
something triumphantly.
"Treasure trove!" he laughed. "The memento of a delightful hour!"
With the words upon his lips he turned, and I recognised Captain
Danby. He was halfway across the hall when he espied us and stopped to
glare in wide-eyed amazement; something fluttered to the floor and he
began to retreat softly and slowly before us, but Anthony was pointing
down at a small bundle of lace with hand that shook and wavered
strangely.
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