"Well, Leggett?"
The venerable butler stood wheezing at his elbow. I had not hitherto
observed that the man was an asthmatic.
"I beg your lordship's pardon, but I think your lordship must have
forgotten."
The voice came in rude gasps, but words of reproach could scarcely
have achieved a finer delicacy.
"Forgotten, Leggett! Forgotten what, may I ask?"
"Locking your lordship's dressing-room door behind your lordship,
my lord," stuttered the unfortunate Leggett, in the short spurts of
a winded man, a few stertorous syllables at a time. "Been up myself,
my lord. Bedroom door - dressing-room door - both locked inside!"
But by this time the noble master was in worse case than the man.
His fine forehead was a tangle of livid cords; his baggy jowl filled
out like a balloon. In another second he had abandoned his place
as our host and fled the room; and in yet another we had forgotten
ours as his guests and rushed headlong at his heels.
Raffles was as excited as any of us now: he outstripped us all. The
cherubic little lawyer and I had a fine race for the last place but
one, which I secured, while the panting butler and his satellites
brought up a respectful rear.
Pages:
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130