Jimmy was finding a deal of swift action since he joined issue with our Aviator Boys.
“You have cause to be on your knees to the Power above that you were delivered from that canaille (mob) outside. They would have left only your bones for the rats to knaw.”
Thus were the boys solemnly addressed, in deep voice, by some person unseen, but near them, in the dark recesses of the hall.
The speaker was then revealed as he opened a door of a lighted room.
A man of almost imperial bearing, but white-haired and slightly bent with age, wearing a skull cap of velvet and a long study gown of the same material.
The room into which the boys were invited was typical of the scholar, the open books on the table, under the shaded lamp, and the hundreds of volumes displayed in wall-cases.
Unknown to them, the boys stood in the presence of one of the most eminent philosophers of the age.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
THE FORTUNE DELIVERED.
“To one of those dictates of the mind for which there is sometimes no accounting,” gravely stated the scholar, “you owe your lives, my young friends. Within these walls,” indicating the room by a sweep of the hand, “I hear no sound. But I was moved to open yonder door, and the drumming of the knocker drew me to the front entrance. By the cries for help I knew someone was in distress. At all times the side streets about here are dangerous for night travel, and in these times there is no protection at all. You came a strange way, my boys.”