“It’s just like a man to want to keep all the fun for himself. I’m not to be fooled that way, daddy, I assure you.”
“You are a recklessly disobedient child, Rosalie, and I am severely displeased with you,” said her father sternly; “but,” as a roar as of wild beasts showed that the house was surrounded, “we must make the best of it now. It is too late.”
There was utter silence among the little group, for a moment; then a repetition of that savage roar, another, and another, shook the night air.
“I should like to know what they are doing?” said Henry Randolph restlessly. Pinkie, with her face on his shoulder, trembled in every limb. “I hope you are enjoying the fun, my dear,” he added, looking down at her.
The roar changed to his own name.
“Randolph! Randolph! come out, come out!”
“You’ll never think of such a thing, Mr. Randolph,” cried Edgar Harrison. “Let me go instead. I may be able to influence them!”
“Influence a mob?” said Henry Randolph, smiling as he placed his daughter in a chair and hastily kissed her brow. “The only hope is to keep them amused until the police can come up. If they only have the sense at headquarters to mount them, it won’t be very long.”
“Long enough to tear you in pieces, as they are more than ready to do,” said Louis.
“Maybe so; but—well, my young friend, I don’t pretend to be a saint, or an idealist, either,—I believe that’s the new term,—but I never yet have sent any one into danger when I could go myself. Take care of my little girl, both of you. Now, John,” to the servant, “be ready to fasten that door behind me. Look sharp now.”