THE UNSPEAKABLE GENTLEMAN
darted into the hall, and was running up the staircase.
"Is the man mad? Is"
My father stopped, and was looking at the table. I followed his glance, and started involuntarily. There had been three pistols lying side by side on the polished mahogany, and now there were only two.
"My son," said my father, "the rum decanter is on the bookshelves. The glasses"
A shout from the hall interrupted him.
"B'gad, captain!" Mr. Aiken was roaring. "Damme! Here's another of 'em! You would bite me, would you! Hell's fire if I don't cut your gullet open."
"What an evening we are having, to be sure," said my father, turning to the doorway.
Mr. Aiken was pushing a man before him into the room, and holding a dirk at his throat.
"Ives!" shrieked Mademoiselle.
"She is right," said my father. "It is Ives de Blanzy. I had forgotten you had sent him to the house."
The man Mr. Aiken was holding wrenched himself free, and sprang forward, shaking a fist in my father's face.
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