Mergleson! Angry, but parroty and unmistakable.
The feet went across to the table and there were faint sounds of refreshment, discreetly administered. Then a moment of profound stillness....
“Ah!” said the voice at last, a voice renewed.
Then the feet went to the passage door, halted in the doorway. There was a double click. The lights went out. Bealby was in absolute darkness.
Then a distant door closed and silence followed upon the dark....
Mr. Mergleson descended to a pantry ablaze with curiosity.
“The Lord Chancellor’s going dotty,” said Mr. Mergleson, replying to the inevitable question. “That’s what’s up.” ...
“I tried to save the blessed syphon,” said Mr. Mergleson, pursuing his narrative, “and ’e sprang on me like a leppard. I suppose ’e thought I wanted to take it away from ’im. ’E’d broke a glass already. ’Ow,—I don’t know. There it was, lying on the landing....”
“’Ere’s where ’e bit my ’and,” said Mr. Mergleson....
A curious little side-issue occurred to Thomas. “Where’s young Kicker all this time?” he asked.