lt, into which
he thrust, on the one side a large wooden pistol, on the other an
old single-stick; and finally he donned a big slouch-hat--once
an uncle's--that we used for playing Guy Fawkes and Charles-the-Second
up-a-tree in. Whatever the audience, Edward, if possible, always dressed
for his parts with care and conscientiousness; while Harold and I, true
Elizabethans, cared little about the mounting of the piece, so long as
the real dramatic heart of it beat sound.

Our commander now enjoined on us a silence deep as the grave, reminding
us that Aunt Eliza usually slept with an open door, past which we had to
file.

"But we'll take the short cut through the Blue Room," said the wary
Selina.

"Of course," said Edward, approvingly. "I forgot about that. Now then!
You lead the way!"

The Blue Room had in prehistoric times been added to by taking in a
superfluous passage, and so not only had the advantage of two doors, but
enabled us to get to the head of the stairs without passing the chamber
wherein our dragon-aunt lay couched. It was rarely occupied, except when
a casual uncle came down for the night. We entered in noiseless file,
the room being plunged in darkness, except for a bright strip of
moonlight on the floor, across which we must pass for our exit. On this
our leading lady chose to pause, seizing the opportunity to study the
hang of her new dressing-gown. Greatly satisfied thereat, she proceeded,
after the feminine fashion, to peacock and to pose, pacing a minuet
down the moonlit patch with an imaginary partner. This was too much for
Edward's histrionic instincts, and after a moment's pause he drew his
single-stick, and with flourishes meet for the occasion, strode onto the
stage. A struggle ensued on approved lines, at the end of which Selina
was stabbed slowly and with unction, and her corpse borne from the
chamber by the ruthless cavalier. The rest of us rushed after in a
clump, with capers and gesticulations of delight; the special charm of
the performance lying in the necessity for its being carried out with
the dumbest of dumb shows.

Once out on the dark landing, the noise of the storm without told us
that we had exaggerated the necessity for silence; so, grasping the
tails of each other's nightgowns even as Alpine climbers rope
themselves together in perilous places, we fared stoutly down the
staircase-moraine, and across the grim glacier of the hall, to where a
faint glimmer from the half-open