There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a halfemptied rummer before him,—there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return,—for he was almost past consciousness,—the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear. A diversion was created by the violent struggles of the little old lady. He glanced up at Roding and met his eyes. Jack did not advance to meet her. Was the girl seriously expecting him to pull the trigger? Lord, but she had courage! ‘Shoot, then,’ urged the lady. “But you must forgive me, John. But if you do not leave this room I must. He was officially in the nun’s employ, but Melusine had commandeered his services immediately on the discovery that he had conceived a passion for her. Brown had admitted to the orchestra that he had never seen a better dress 247 rehearsal in the twenty-three years he had been teaching at Lincoln. Then Capes flittered to the hearthrug and poked the fire, stood up, and turned about.
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