Agag, Mr. Heard;
Agag. I must have another look at this specimen; one does not see such
a sight every day. He is a living fossil--post-pleistocene."
He drew off; Keith and the Count, engaged in some deep conversation,
had also moved a few paces away.
Mr. Heard stood alone, his back turned to the Master. Moonlight still
flooded the earth, the lanterns were flickering and sputtering. Some
had gone out, leaving gaps of darkness in the lighted walls. Many of
the guests retired without bidding farewell to their host; he liked
them to feel at their ease, to take "French leave" whenever so
disposed--to depart "A L'ANGLAISE," as the French say. The garden was
nearly empty. A great quietude had fallen upon its path and thickets.
From afar resounded the boisterous chorus of a party of revellers loth
to quit the scene; it was suddenly broken by a terrific crash and
bursts of laughter. Some table had been knocked over.
Standing there, the bishop could not but listen to Keith, who had
raised his voice in emphasis and was saying to the Count, in his best
Keithean manner:
"I am just coming to that point.
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