"Here, Pat," said Alec, "is half a sovereign for you; don't say another word about it."
Pat winked, and pocketed the money.
"Spache is silver, an' silence is goolden. Mum's the wurrd. Love ye're inimy is a goolden rule. I'll obsarve that same, as I've got the Queen's countenance for it in me pocket."
He seized a stick which was lying in a corner, whirled it round his head three times, and brought it down with a whack on the table.
"What's that for, Pat?"
"That's wan for me inimy. It's that same he'd be afther havin' if yees hadn't intervaned wid de gospel av paice. Sure, I repinted av takin' de money, so I let de divil go out av me through de shtick. I feel betther after that, bedad!"
"Well, go to bed, Pat. I hear the men coming." So saying, Alec slipped out of the door, and crept under cover of the shadows, until he reached the back of the house; then he paused to listen. On tiptoe he reached the "prophet's chamber," went in and shut the door, then flung himself on the bed. He had been a fool he thought. He should not have allowed Elsie to see that he cared one jot whether she showed attentions to Bond or not. But why should she so markedly slight himself? He could not understand this, unless she had wished to make him jealous, or unless she was a flirt, and deliberately flung away one who loved her, for a brief amusement, pour passer le temp. In this case she was cruel and heartless. Unless he had seen her conduct he could not have believed she would have acted as she did.
What was to be done now? He could not face Elsie and Bond next morning. He could not endure to meet them at breakfast. The air was full of electricity. The explosives were stored, the train was laid, and a chance spark might cause a blow-up which he would ever regret. He felt like a volcano which might burst forth at any moment. Discretion is the better part of valour; he would cool down before morning perhaps.
He heard low voices in the dining-room.
"Good night, Mr. Bond," said Elsie.