“It wasn’t me that you tried to ruin,” he said sullenly. “After all, it would be a good deed to drown you.”
“It’s a better deed to make me ashamed of myself,” said Frank, shaking heartily the reluctant hand, “and perhaps I may drown myself and no thanks to you. Good-by.”
“You ain’t a coward, at all events,” said Fritz, as the white shoulders disappeared beneath the dark stream, “but you’ve got to be a regular old swimmer from Swimtown to get through to-night.”
The tramp of feet was very close at hand now; even through the darkness he could discern an advancing line, which absorbed and deepened the blackness of the starless night, and this line swayed hither, thither, as if in wild mirth, while overhead scattered torches flamed redly in the misty air, and wreaths of black and suffocating smoke eddied here and there before settling in foul and noxious rain upon faces which needed little to add to their hideous, repulsive horror. Then a woman’s voice began some wild and obscene melody, which was caught up, with curses and laughter, by hundreds; and Fritz turned and fled through the quiet night before him towards the doomed household.
Meanwhile, Henry Randolph had returned to his guests, just as Louis Metzerott entered the room from the hall. Mr. Randolph was a brave man; courage had come to him, with his sturdy muscles and handsome face, from a long succession of ancestors.
“A riot, is it?” he said; “poor devils, don’t they know who will be the real sufferers?” and then he told his lie as neatly as if the hour which might be his last were not even then ringing out from every clock in the city.
“I heard a rumor of this before we left the table,” he said, “and have sent Frank to inquire into the truth of it. I hope he won’t get into trouble.”
The fair Virginia gave a little scream.
“Hadn’t we better have the carriage brought round, mamma?” she cried. “You don’t think they will attack our house, do you, Mr. Metzerott? Oh! dear me, why should they? I’m sure we never did anything to them!”
“I think the police will be here before they could have time,” said Louis. “We telephoned the news of the riot as we came along. Indeed, for all of you to make your way to Mr. Dare’s will be much the best plan. I will stay here to meet them; perhaps, when they find no one whom they are angry with, they will not do any harm; or even if a few pictures and things were injured”—