miner kicked my ankle and went stumbling. There were shouts and curses, and then everything had swept past me. I rolled over on my face and beheld the chauffeur, young Verrall, and Lord Redcar--the latter holding up his long skirts of fur, and making a grotesque figure--one behind the other, in full bolt across a coldly comet-lit interval, towards the open gates of the colliery.
I raised myself up on my hands.
Young Verrall!
I had not even drawn my revolver--I had forgotten it. I was covered with coaly mud--knees, elbows, shoulders, back. I had not even drawn my revolver! . . .
A feeling of ridiculous impotence overwhelmed me. I struggled painfully to my feet.
I hesitated for a moment towards the gates of the colliery, and then went limping homeward, thwarted, painful, confused and ashamed. I had not the heart nor desire to help in the wrecking and burning of Lord Redcar's motor.
4
In the night, fever, pain, fatigue--it may be the indigestion of my supper of bread and cheese--roused me at last out of a hag-rid sleep to face despair. I was a soul lost amidst desolati
