Paid for the job, being
out of work just now."
Mrs. Bubb tittered; Mrs. Cheeseman, down below, choked audibly.
"Will you answer that question or not? Very good; I give you till
I've counted fifty, slow. When I say fifty, bang goes the bloomin'
door."
Amid an awful silence, enveloped, as it were, by the dull rumbling
of vehicles without, Mr. Gammon's voice began counting. He expected
to hear Polly's key turn in the lock, so did Mrs. Bubb and Mrs.
Clover. But the key moved not.
"Forty-eight--forty-nine--fifty!"
Gammon drew back to give himself impetus, and rushed against the
door. With raised foot he struck it just by the handle, and the
house seemed to quiver. A second assault was successful; with crash
and splintering the lock yielded, the door flew open. At the far
side of the room stood Polly, but in no attitude of surrender; she
held a clothes brush, and as soon as the assailant showed himself
flung it violently at his head. Another missile would have followed,
but Gammon was too quick; with a red Indian yell of victory he
crossed the floor at one bound and had Polly in his arms.
Pages:
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129