“You’d like to give him some company, eh! But it’s too risky work, your Majesty.”
“I must have a slap at ’em,” said I.
Sapt wavered.
“Well,” said he, “it’s not business, you know; but you’ve been a good boy—and if we come to grief, why, hang me, it’ll save us lot of thinking! I’ll show you how to touch them.”
He cautiously closed the open chink of the door.
Then we retreated through the house and made our way to the back entrance. Here our horses were standing. A carriage-drive swept all round the lodge.
“Revolver ready?” asked Sapt.
“No; steel for me,” said I.
“Gad, you’re thirsty tonight,” chuckled Sapt. “So be it.”
We mounted, drawing our swords, and waited silently for a minute or two. Then we heard the tramp of men on the drive the other side of the house. They came to a stand, and one cried: