somewhere in the room, for I recollect seeing it. But unless you understand that kind of work——"
"Oh, soldiers understand something of everything," said Berrington cheerfully. "I shall be able to manage, no doubt. I won't detain you any longer."
Mary slipped away, and Berrington commenced to make a careful search of the room. He found what he wanted presently, in a little blue cup on the overmantel, and in a few minutes he had fixed the switch to the wall. As he pressed the little brass stud down, the room was flooded with a brilliant light.
"There's some comfort in being able to see, at any rate," Berrington reflected. "It's ten chances to one that my little scheme does not come off, yet the tenth chance may work in my favour. I'll wait till it gets dark—no use trying it before."
Berrington dozed off in his chair, and soon fell into a profound sleep. When he came to himself again, a clock somewhere was striking the hour of eleven. There was no stream of light through the little round ventilator in the shutter, so that Berrington did not need to be told that the hour was eleven o'clock at night.
"By Jove, what a time I've slept," the soldier muttered. "What's that?"
Loud voices downstairs, voices of men quarrelling. Berrington pulled the whistle out of the tube and listened. Someone had removed the whistle from the other end, or else it had been left out by accident, for the sound came quite clear and distinct.
It was the voice of Sartoris that was speaking, a voice like a snarling dog.
"I tell you you are wrong," Sartoris said. "You tried to fool me, and when we make use of you and
get the better of you, then you whine like a cur that is whipped. Don't imagine that you have your poor misguided wife to deal with."