Kennedy flung down his knife and fork with a curse, and left the hall. Men began to see clearly that there must have been some mystery attached to the Aeschylus paper, known to Brogten and Kennedy, and very discomfiting to the latter. But as Kennedy was concerned, they did not suspect the truth.
Brogten went straight from hall to Kennedy’s rooms. He found the door sported, but knew as well as possible that Kennedy was in. He hammered and thumped at the door a long time with sundry imprecations, but Kennedy, moodily resolute, heard all the noise inside, and would not stir. Then Brogten took out a card and wrote on the back, “I think you’ll ask De Vayne,” and dropped it into the letter-box.
That evening he found in his own letter-box a slip of paper. “De Vayne is coming to wine with me to-morrow. Come, and the foul fiend take you. I have filled my decanters half-full of water, and won’t bring out more than one bottle. E K.”
Brogten read the note and chuckled,—partly with the thought of Kennedy, partly of Bruce, partly of De Vayne. Yet the chuckle ended in a very heavy sigh.
Chapter Twenty Three.
Kennedy’s Wine-Party, and what came of it.
“Et je n’ai moi
Par la sang Dieu!
Ni foi, ni loi,
Ni jeu, ni lieu,
Ni roi, ni Dieu.”
Victor Hugo, Notre Dame de Paris.
“Nay, that’s certain but yet the pity of it,
Iago!—O Iago, the pity of it, Iago!”
Othello, Act 4, Scene 1.