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Updated: May 10, 2025
He had about given up, as it was getting toward late afternoon, when, as he came out of a billiardroom, where the bully was in the habit of spending much of his time, Tom saw the lad of whom he was in search. "Hold on there, Andy Foger!" cried the young inventor. "I want to see you!" "What about?" "You know very well. Where's that map you stole?" "I haven't got it."
Fuming, and disregarding the excuses of Padre Irene, who tried to explain while he rubbed the tip of his beak in order to conceal his sly smile, he went into the billiardroom. "Padre Fernandez, would you like to take a hand?" asked Fray Sibyla. "I'm a very poor player," replied the friar with a grimace. "Then get Simoun," said the General. "Eh, Simoun! Eh, Mister, won't you try a hand?"
So far, Dove had been forced to sacrifice himself entirely, and he was hot and impatient. "Besides, I've routed half a dozen men out of the billiardroom, more than once," he complained irrelevantly, wiping the moisture from his brow. "But it's of no Now just look at that!" he interrupted himself. "The 'cellist has had too much to drink already, and they're handing him more beer.
Ryan and Lynch preferring smoke and drink to chatter and oblique glances in the direction of ankle-concealing skirts, went up to the billiardroom. And the skirts, what an importance they took in the great sitting-room full of easy-chairs and Swiss scenery: châlets, lakes, cascades, and chamois, painted on the light-coloured walls.
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