"And is there anything further?" I inquired. The comedy was beginning
to weary me, it was so one-sided.
"I am in no particular hurry," the rogue answered, his sardonic smile
returning. "It is so long since I have chatted with people of my kind."
I scowled.
"Pardon me, I meant from a social point of view only. I admit we would
not be equals in the eye of the Presbyter."
And then followed a scene that reminds me to this day of some broken,
fantastic dream, a fragment from some bewildering nightmare.
IX
For suddenly I saw his eyes widen and flash with anger and
apprehension. Quick as a passing sunshadow, his hand swept the
candelabrum from the table. He made a swift backward spring toward the
door, but he was a little too late. The darkness he had created was
not intense enough, for there was still the ruddy glow from the logs;
and the bosom of his dress-shirt made a fine target. Besides, the eyes
that had peered into the window were accustomed to the night.
Blang! The glass of the window shivered and jingled to the floor, and
a sharp report followed. The rogue cried out in fierce anguish, and
reeled against the wall. William whipped out his revolver, but, even
from his favorable angle, he was not quick enough.
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