"I shall never forget," she whispered. "Come back to us, Mr. Bayne!"
For a moment I looked at her in the light of the candle, at her lovely
face, at the ruddy hair framing it, at the tears heavy on her lashes.
Then I drew the bolt and went out and heard her fasten the door.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE OBUS
I stood in the gallery for an instant, indulging in a reconnoissance.
The hall was now illuminated by an electric torch and three guttering
candles; at the foot of the staircase lay the table which had done such
yeoman's service, split in two. As for the besiegers, they were
gathered near the chimney-place in a worse-for-wear group, one nursing
a nosebleed; another feeling gingerly of a loose tooth; Blenheim himself
frankly raging, and decorated with a broad cut across his forehead and
a cheek that was rapidly taking on assorted shades of blue, green, and
black; and the redoubtable Mr. Schwartzmann, worst off of all, lying in
a heap, groaning at intervals, but apparently quite unaware of what was
going on.
My abrupt sally seemed transfixing.
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