“Is that you, Chimmy?” he called out in a stage whisper.
The master-at-arms emerged.
“How about things, Chimmy?” Mr. Keegan inquired. “Is they all down?”
“All down but that there,” responded the master-at-arms, pointing over his shoulder. Just at this moment it struck him that a coasting sled accommodated but two; and how he and Mr. Keegan were to escape the clutches of the irate father-in-law elect was a point he had not previously considered.
“Well, I’ll be——, Dennis!” he exclaimed profanely.
But Mr. Keegan, who divined his thoughts, refrained from censure. He was quick to make a virtue out of necessity.
“That ain’t no matter, Chimmy,” he said consolingly; “if the old one wastes any time tryin’ to pinch us, he’ll never get hold of Mr. Pennington there.”
Pennington struck a match, and looked at his watch; it was twenty-five minutes after eleven.
“It is time we were there, Keegan,” he said.
This was virtually an admission in Mr. Keegan’s favour, and Mr. Keegan knew it. Having had a very thorough understanding of Pennington’s character, he had appreciated the magnitude and delicacy of his undertaking, and had handled that gentleman to perfection, as we have seen. If he felt any exultation now he did not show it, for he only cautioned the master-at-arms, by way of reply, to stay by the sled, and not to trust the Dago out of his sight.