"
At the same moment Joe and some others, equally attracted by the
roaring, strolled in.
The alderman hesitated.
"Yes, of course; I was forgetting."
"If you'll lend it to the professor a minute or so?" said the watchman.
The alderman pulled it out of his pocket, and hesitatingly handed it to
the watchman, and the watchman was turning hurriedly away with it when
the alderman said nervously:
"I'm not sure if it's loaded."
"Well, you're a nice chap!" Joe Keats put in.
"I forget," muttered the alderman.
"We'll soon see," said the watchman, who was accustomed to revolvers.
And he opened it. "Yes," glancing into it, "it's loaded right enough."
And turned away again towards the sound of the awful roaring.
"I say," the alderman cried, "I'm afraid it's only blank cartridge."
He might have saved his reputation by allowing the unique Hagentodt to
risk his life with a useless revolver. But he had a conscience. A clear
conscience was his sole compensation as he faced the sardonic laughter
which Joe led and which finished off his reputation as a dog of the old
sort. The annoying thing was that his noble self-sacrifice was useless,
for immediately afterwards the roaring ceased, Hagentodt having
separated the combatants by means of a burning newspaper at the end of a
stick.
Pages:
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439