"
Sir Timothy nodded thoughtfully. The beautiful oak floor of the
place was littered with sawdust and shavings of wood. Several
tiers of seats had been arranged on the space usually occupied by
swings, punching-balls and other artifices. On a slightly raised
dais at the further end was an exact replica of a ring, corded
around and with sawdust upon the floor. Upon the walls hung a
marvellous collection of weapons of every description, from the
modern rifle to the curved and terrible knife used by the most
savage of known tribes.
"How are things in the quarters?" Sir Timothy asked.
"Every one is well, sir. Doctor Ballantyne arrived this
afternoon. His report is excellent."
Sir Timothy nodded and turned away. He looked into the great
gallery, its waxen floors shining with polish, ready for the feet
of the dancers on the morrow; looked into a beautiful concert-room,
with an organ that reached to the roof; glanced into the banquetting
hall, which extended far into the winter-garden; made his way up
the broad stairs, turned down a little corridor, unlocked a door and
passed into his own suite. There was a small dining-room, a library,
a bedroom, and a bathroom fitted with every sort of device. A
man-servant who had heard him enter, hurried from his own apartment
across the way.
Pages:
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263