"Yes," said my father, "I shall have the money, and you too, Jason. I shall have everything. Take them along, Brutus," and they left the room in silence, while my father watched them thoughtfully, and arranged the lapel on his coat.
"Ned," said my father, "the rum decanter is over on the bookshelves. Good God, where is he going?" for Mr. Aiken had darted into the hall, and was running up the staircase.
"Is the man mad? Is—"
My father stopped, and was looking at the table. I followed his glance, and started involuntarily. There had been three pistols lying side by side on the polished mahogany, and now there were only two.
"My son," said my father, "the rum decanter is on the bookshelves. The glasses—"
A shout from the hall interrupted him.
"B'gad, captain!" Mr. Aiken was roaring. "Damme! Here's another of 'em! You would bite me, would you! Hell's fire if I don't cut your gullet open."
"What an evening we are having, to be sure," said my father, turning to the doorway.
Mr. Aiken was pushing a man before him into the room, and holding a dirk at his throat.
"Ives!" shrieked Mademoiselle.