But I did not pause to take in details.
With William Adolphus under my arm I marched downstairs, fervently hoping
I should meet no one on the way.
I did not. The hall below was empty and dusty.
I opened the first door I came to and walked boldly in.
A man was sitting by the window, looking moodily out.
I should have known him for Alexander Abraham anywhere.
He had just the same uncared-for, ragged appearance that
the house had; and yet, like the house, it seemed that
he would not be bad looking if he were trimmed up a little.
His hair looked as if it had never been combed, and his whiskers
were wild in the extreme.
He looked at me with blank amazement in his countenance.
"Where is Jimmy Spencer?" I demanded. "I have come to see him."
"How did he ever let you in?" asked the man, staring at me.
"He didn't let me in," I retorted. "He chased me all over the lawn,
and I only saved myself from being torn piecemeal by scrambling
up a tree. You ought to be prosecuted for keeping such a dog!
Where is Jimmy?"
Instead of answering Alexander Abraham began to laugh in a
most unpleasant fashion.
"Trust a woman for getting into a man's house if she has made
up her mind to," he said disagreeably.
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