" And he
seated himself upon a settee, leaned back and crossed his legs.
"You will not accompany the old astronomer? Oh-h-h"
"No. I will rest here. When you have found the ruffian and murdered him,
I shall be glad to hear your news."
And, so saying, the Prophet settled himself comfortably with a cushion
behind his back, and calmly closed his eyes. The candlestick clattered
in Sir Tiglath's gouty hand. The Prophet heard it, heard heavy feet
shuffling very slowly and cautiously over the floor of the hall, finally
heard the door leading to the servants' quarters swing on its hinges.
Still he did not open his eyes. He felt that if he were to do so just
then he would probably begin to shriek, rave, foam at the mouth, and
in all known ways comport himself as do the inhabitants of Bedlam. A
delicate silence fell in the hall. How long it lasted the Prophet never
knew. It might have been five minutes or five years as far as he
was concerned. It was broken at length by the following symphony of
sounds--an elderly man's voice roaring, a woman's voice uttering a
considerable number of very powerful screams on a rather low but
still resounding note, a loud thump, a crash of glass, a prodigious
clattering, as of utensils made in some noisy material falling from a
height and rolling vigorously in innumerable directions, two or three
bangs of doors, and the peculiar patter of rather large and flat feet,
unaccustomed to any rapid exercise, moving over boards, oilcloth and
carpet.
Pages:
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383