Lawncers, sir, bugler at Tel-el-Kebir, an’ was shot by the wells.”
“You don't mean to say you ran away?”
“Yes, sir; I run.”
“Why?”
“That’s just what I want to know, sir. I grabbed Molly an’ run, an’ the rest was as frightened as I.”
“But what were they frightened at?”
Thomas refused to answer for a while, but now my curiosity was aroused about the repulsive young man below and I pressed him. Three years’ sojourn in America had not only modified Thomas’ cockney dialect but had given him the American’s fear of ridicule.
“You won't believe me, Mr. Scott, sir?”
“Yes, I will.”
“You will lawf at me, sir?”
“Nonsense!”
He hesitated. “Well, sir, it’s Gawd’s truth that when I ‘it ’im ’e grabbed me wrists, sir, and when I twisted ’is soft, mushy fist one of ’is fingers come off in me ’and.”
The utter loathing and horror of Thomas’ face must have been reflected in my own for he added:
“It’s orful, an’ now when I see ’im I just go away. ’E maikes me hill.”
When Thomas had gone I went to the window. The man stood: beside the church-railing with both hands on the gate, but I hastily retreated to my easel again, sickened and horrified, for I saw that the middle finger of his right hand was missing.
At nine o’clock Tessie appeared and vanished behind the screen with a merry “good-morning, Mr. Scott.” When she had reappeared and taken her pose upon the model-
