“Stop a minute—listen!” said Coleman; “I can hear him now.”
As he spoke, the sound of some one running quickly in the room overhead was distinctly audible; then came a scuffling noise, and then a heavyish fall.
“What's he doing?” asked Coleman.
“He's a-trainin' of hisself for some match as must be a-coming off, sir; leastways so I take it; he's been a-going on like that for the last hour and a quarter, and wery well he's lasted out, I say; he'll be safe to win, don't you think, Gents?”
“Out of the way, you imp!” exclaimed Coleman, seizing Shrimp by the collar, and swinging him half across the hall, where, cat-like, he fell upon his legs, and walked off, looking deeply insulted.
“I can't make out what he can be doing,” continued Freddy. “Come along!” so saying, he sprang up the staircase, two steps at a time, an example which I hastened to imitate.
“Come in!” cried the voice of Lawless, as Coleman rapped at the door; and anxious to discover the occasion of the sounds which had reached our ears in the hall, we lost no time in obeying the summons. On entering the apartment a somewhat singular spectacle greeted our sight. All the furniture of the room, which was a tolerably large one, was piled on two lines on either side, so as to leave a clear course along the middle; in the centre of the space thus formed were placed two chairs about a yard apart, and across the backs of these was laid the joint of a fishing-rod.
As we entered, Lawless—who was without shoes, coat, or waistcoat—exclaiming, “Wait a minute, I've just done it”—started from one end of the room, and, running up to the chairs in the centre, leaped over the fishing-rod. “Ninety-nine!” he continued; then, proceeding to the other end, he again ran up to and sprang over the barrier, shouting as he did so, in a tone of triumph, “A hundred!” and dragging an easy-chair out of the chaotic heap of furniture, he flung himself into it to all appearance utterly exhausted.