"
I didn't breathe.
I had an accident insurance on my life. Would it hold good in a
case like this? Or would Euphemia have to go back to her father?
He pushed me back into the little patch of moonlight.
"Oh! is it you?" he said, relaxing his grasp. "What do you want?
A mustard plaster?"
He had a package of patent plasters in his room. You took one and
dipped it in hot water, and it was all ready.
"No," said I, gasping a little. "Burglars."
"Oh!" he said, and he put down his pistol and put on his clothes.
"Come along," he said, and away we went over the deck.
When we reached the stairs all was dark and quiet below.
It was a matter of hesitancy as to going down.
I started to go down first, but the boarder held me back.
"Let me go down," he said.
"No," said I, "my wife is there."
"That's the very reason you should not go," he said. "She is safe
enough yet, and they would fire only at a man. It would be a bad
job for her if you were killed. I'll go down."
So he went down, slowly and cautiously, his pistol in one hand, and
his life in the other, as it were.
When he reached the bottom of the steps I changed my mind. I could
not remain above while the burglar and Euphemia were below, so I
followed.
The boarder was standing in the middle of the dining-room, into
which the stairs led. I could not see him, but I put my hand
against him as I was feeling my way across the floor.
I whispered to him:
"Shall we put our backs together and revolve and fire?"
"No," he whispered back, "not now; he may be on a shelf by this
time, or under a table.
Pages:
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55