“I shall go and dress for diner,” he announced in a voice into which he intended some shade of sternness to creep.
At the door a final access of weakness impelled him to make a further appeal.
“Aren’t we being very silly?”
“A fool” was Don Tarquinio’s mental comment as the door closed on Egbert’s retreat. Then he lifted his velvet forepaws in the air and leapt lightly on to a bookshelf immediately under the bullfinch’s cage. It was the first time he had seemed to notice the bird’s existence, but he was carrying out a long-formed theory of action with the precision of mature deliberation. The bullfinch, who had fancied himself something of a despot, depressed himself of a sudden into a third of his normal displacement; then he fell to a helpless wing-beating and shrill cheeping. He had cost twenty-seven shillings without the cage, but Lady Anne made no sign of interfering. She had been dead for two hours.
THE LOST SANJAK
The prison Chaplain entered the condemned’s cell for the last time, to give such consolation as he might.
“The only consolation I crave for,” said the condemned, “is to tell my story in its entirety to some one who will at least give it a respectful hearing.”
“We must not be too long over it,” said the Chaplain, looking at his watch.
The condemned repressed a shiver and commenced.
“Most people will be of opinion that I am paying the penalty of my own violent deeds. In reality I am a victim to a lack of specialisation in my education and character.”