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Alfred bounded up the next flight of stairs: but, even as he went, his fighting blood got up; he remembered his pistol: he drew it, turned on the upper landing, and levelled the weapon full at Rooke's forehead. The man recoiled with a yell, and got to a respectful distance on the second landing. There he began to parley. "Come, Mr.
But the raucous sound of rending canvas still grated hideously against her ears. Suddenly Roger ceased to cut and slash at the portrait. Seizing it in both hands, he dragged it from the easel and flung it on the floor at Rooke's feet. "There's your picture!" he said. "Take it and hang it in your 'admirable light'!" And he strode out of the room. A long silence fell between the two who were left.
Which did not seem to Alfred a cogent reason for continuing his narrative. He varied it by telling her that through all his misery the thought of her had sustained him. Alas, in the midst of their Elysium a rough voice was heard in the passage inquiring for Mr. Hardie. Alfred started up in dismay: for it was Rooke's voice. "I am undone," he cried.
On the other hand, if things worked smoothly and with no apparent friction, Devers might hope to retain command for several weeks, and that would be of inestimable benefit. What might not be accomplished in that time? He was quick, yet not too precipitate, therefore, in expressing grave and courteous disclaimer. No reflection on Dr. Rooke's management was intended or implied, though Dr.
Rooke's expedition against Cadiz also failed, as it was nearly certain to do; for his instructions were so to act as to conciliate the Spanish people and disincline them to the Bourbon king. Such doubtful orders tied his hands; but after failing there, he learned that the galleons from the West Indies, loaded with silver and merchandise, had put into Vigo Bay under escort of French ships-of-war.
Rooke, the post surgeon, a man ten years Devers's senior in the service, returning from a visit to Colonel Stone's bedside, came face to face with the captain, and the captain stopped to make inquiries. Rooke's face was grave. "He is semi-conscious and resting fairly well, but has received a severe shock that has clouded his faculties. I cannot say when he will be up again.
The sixth day she met at lunch a friend of hers and Belinda Rooke's. She asked a question about the Rookes with averted eyes. "Poor girl," said the friend; "she is in grief over Godfrey Langrishe. He sails to-morrow." The rest of that luncheon-party was a phantasmagoria of faces and voices to poor Nelly.
He went back to his room shaking his old head, and Robin Drummond went out into the night. He drove first to Mrs. Rooke's house, and found the mistress absent. She had gone off to an old mother who had to be consoled. Fortunately it was not far to Mary Gray's little flat, not more than ten minutes' hansom drive. He told the driver to wait while he ran up the stone steps.
On the other hand, the commons affected to mention the battle of Blenheim, and Rooke's naval victory, as events of equal glory and importance. However they might be warped by prejudice against individuals, they did not suffer the war to languish for want of supplies.
Alfred's long-pent fury broke out: he gnashed his teeth and dashed his fist in Rooke's face. Rooke staggered back and bellowed with pain and anger, then rushing at him incautiously, received a stinger that staggered him, and nearly closed his right eye. He took the hint, and put himself in a posture that showed he was skilled in the art of self-defence.
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