I looked at my watch.
"Well, there's no particular reason why I shouldn't go—now," I said. "What do you say, Kitty? Hark! What's that?"
"That's the result, I expect," said my brother-in-law.
We drew up the blind and opened the window. The moon was shining brightly, and threw the monstrous shadow of the Cathedral very blackly upon the untrodden snow of the peaceful Close. Through the clear night air came the sound of frenzied cheering.
"That's it, right enough," said Gerald. "I wonder if you've got the chuck, my bonny boy."
"Ugh! It is cold! Come in," said Kitty.
We shut the window, drew down the blind, returned to the fire, and waited. Dolly joined us now, and Kitty vanished to sit by Phillis. We waited on. Somehow it never occurred to us to send downstairs for news. I suppose there are times when the human craving for sensation is sated. We sat and waited.
At last the door opened, and, as I expected, Robin entered. He looked like a man who has not been to bed for a week. He shut the door softly behind him—evidently he feared he might be entering a house of mourning—and surveyed us for a moment without speaking. I knew what was in his mind. Then he said—
"We have lost."
I stood up.