Sir Beverley, grown piteously feeble, sank down in the chair, and remained there huddled and gasping for many dragging minutes.
CHAPTER XXIX
A WATCH IN THE NIGHT
He came at last out of what had almost been a stupor of inertia, sat slowly up, turned his brooding eyes upon the door through which Piers had passed. A tremor of anger crossed his face, and was gone. A grim smile took its place. He still panted spasmodically; but he found his voice.
"Egad!" he said. "The fellow's as strong as a young bear. He's hugged—all the wind—out of my vitals."
He struggled to his feet, straightening his knees with difficulty, one hand pressed hard to his labouring heart.
"Egad!" he gasped again. "He's getting out of hand—the cub! But he'll come to heel,—he'll come to heel! I know the rascal!"
He stumbled to the bell and rang it.
David appeared with a promptitude that seemed to indicate a certain uneasiness.
"Coffee!" growled his master. "And liqueur!"