“Well, he has got them. Bah! I’m glad you stopped me from punching his head. Let him have them; they’re his.”
“Yes,” said Ingleborough; “but the handle of the cane and the top joint of the flute. There was room for a dozen big diamonds in each.”
“What! Then let’s go and stop him!”
“Yes; we could but be wrong. Come on.”
“Hah! Listen,” cried West, and a sound arose which turned their thoughts in a different channel, for it was like the first note of the coming war.
The trumpet rang out the “assemblée” and thrilled both through and through, sending them to the arm-press for rifle and bandolier.
Clerking was over for many months to come. The pen was to give way to the modern substitute for the sword.