Sir Perseus paused to turn the paper, glancing up he noticed the face of the man opposite. “Sir,” he asked curiously, “why do you so look at me?”
“For what reason save interest,” answered Mr. Wedderburn, in no way altering his steady gaze. “Will you not continue?”
“If it interests you,” Sir Perseus spoke uneasily. “Mr. Caryl is late.”
“An unpardonable fault,” cried the other imperiously. “But I pray you—continue this pleasant reading.” He pushed his chair from the table, his right hand had slipped to his sword-hilt; he was leaning back very easily, yet something about him made Sir Perseus hesitate, yet impelled to fill the pause, he recommenced:
His children, were devils born
Who laughed God to scorn
Once, in childish play,
One did the other slay.
Their father came, and smiled to see,
The red blood run so merrily.