Mr. Stone came to himself. His mute, white face had suddenly grown
scared and pink. He looked at Hilary.
"I fear that I forgot myself. Have I said anything peculiar?"
Not feeling certain of his voice, Hilary shook his head, and he, too,
moved towards the door.
CHAPTER XXIV
SHADOWLAND
"Each of us has a shadow in those places--in those streets."
That saying of Mr. Stone's, which--like so many of his sayings--had
travelled forth to beat the air, might have seemed, even "in those
days," not altogether without meaning to anyone who looked into the room
of Mr. Joshua Creed in Hound Street.
This aged butler lay in bed waiting for the inevitable striking of
a small alarum clock placed in the very centre of his mantelpiece.
Flanking that round and ruthless arbiter, which drove him day by day to
stand up on feet whose time had come to rest, were the effigies of his
past triumphs. On the one hand, in a papier-mache frame, slightly tinged
with smuts, stood a portrait of the "Honorable Bateson," in the uniform
of his Yeomanry. Creed's former master's face wore that dare-devil look
with which he had been wont to say: "D---n it, Creed! lend me a pound.
I've got no money!" On the other hand, in a green frame which had once
been plush, and covered by a glass with a crack in the left-hand corner,
was a portrait of the Dowager Countess of Glengower, as this former
mistress of his appeared, conceived by the local photographer, laying
the foundation-stone of the local almshouse.
Pages:
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226