I sat on the Terrace and waited, knowing full well that it
was to soon, but nervous anyhow. I had before that locked all
the library windows but the one with the X on the sketch, also
putting a nail at the top so he could not open them and escape.
And I had the key of the library door and my trusty weapon under
a cushion, loaded--the weapon, of course, not the key.
I then sat down to my lonely Vigil.
At eleven P. M. I saw a sureptitious Figure coming across
the lawn, and was for a moment alarmed, as he might be coming
while the Familey and the jewels, and so on, were still at the
Club.
But it was only Carter Brooks, who said he had invited
himself to stay all night, and the Club was sickning, as all the
old people were playing cards and the young ones were paired and
he was an odd man.
He then sat down on the cushion with the revolver under it,
and said:
"Gee whiz! Am I on the Cat? Because if so it is dead. It
moves not."
"It might be a Revolver," I said, in a calm voice. "There
was one lying around somwhere."
So he got up and observed: "I have conscientous scruples
against sitting on a poor, unprotected gun, Bab.
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