He put the question first to Archie and then to me.
Receiving a reply in the affirmative, it was but natural that I should look for some show of emotion in M'Rae's face. I looked in vain. I have never seen more consummate coolness before nor since. Indeed, it was a coolness that alarmed me.
And when he rose from the table after a few minutes of apparently engrossing thought, and walked directly towards a casket that stood on the writing-table, I thought that after all our cause was lost.
In that casket, I felt sure, lay some strange document that should utterly undo all Townley's work of years.
M'Rae is now at the table. He opens the casket, and for a moment looks critically at its contents.
I can hear my heart beating. I'm sure I look pale with anxiety.
Now M'Rae puts his hand inside and quietly takes out—a fresh cigar.
Then, humming a tune the while, he brings the casket towards Townley, and bids him help himself.
Townley does as he is told, but at the same time bursts into a hearty laugh.
'Mr. M'Rae,' he says, 'you are the coolest man that ever I met. I do believe that if you were taken out to be shot—' 286