"You would never take it if it wasn't for me," said his wife serenely, advancing upon him. "You're just like a naughty little boy. Drink it up now."
And meekly, obediently, the great steel magnate drank it up!
Lady Coote smiled sadly and sweetly at everyone.
"Am I interrupting you? Are you very busy? Oh, look at those revolvers. Nasty, noisy, murdering things. To think, Oswald, that you might have been shot by the burglar last night."
"You must have been alarmed when you found he was missing, Lady Coote," said Battle.
"I didn't think of it at first," confessed Lady Coote. "This poor boy here"—she indicated Jimmy—"being shot—and everything so dreadful, but so exciting. It wasn't till Mr. Bateman asked me where Sir Oswald was that I remembered he'd gone out half an hour before for a stroll."
"Sleepless, eh, Sir Oswald?" asked Battle.
"I am usually an excellent sleeper," said Sir Oswald. "But I must confess that last night I felt unusually restless. I thought the night air would do me good."
"You came out through this window, I suppose?"
Was it his fancy, or did Sir Oswald hesitate for a moment before replying.