The onion and cabbage beds rose right up to the house wall. In the soft mould his footsteps fell silent. Ha! what was that? Jealousy! Wrath! Revenge!
A male figure stood in the center of the onion-bed. Its hat was cocked on one side, its gaze uplifted to Matilda's window. One arm was stretched out in an attitude of supplication. A bush rustled as Trotters stole warily behind him. Matilda's window opened. Matilda's voice queried, "Is that you, dear?" It was too much. Trotters drew the fatal pistol and clapped it to his rival's ear.
"Stir a step and you're a dead man!" he hissed, trying to steady his shaking hand. Too late! There was a flash—a terrible explosion! The stranger fell prone, and lay motionless on the ground.
Trotters was unaware that his cousin Jack, who was in the Carabineers, had expressed much curiosity regarding the weapon Trotters carried with such jealous solicitude, and, being of a larksome disposition, had surreptitiously gained possession of the revolver, placed a blank cartridge in each of the barrels, and returned it to the pocket of the unsuspecting Trotters, or he might have behaved differently. But no, he felt that in his passionate jealousy he had committed a deadly crime, and sent to his last account an innocent man. 'Twas too much. Trotters shrieked aloud in terror, and then fainted.
Matilda flew down to him with her hair in curl-papers. They found him lying cold and motionless beside the garden scarecrow!
—Ally Sloper's Half Holiday.
Everything in Its Place.
Architectural Upholsterer—And how do you think of having the library furnished, Mr. Gasbuhm?