"
"But Parson dear, you're never going to unlock that door!" cried my
grandfather.
"If you'll stand by me, Calvin," says the Parson, plucky as ginger,
and up he steps to the very door, all the parish holding its breath.
He tapped once--no answer: twice--and no more answer than before.
There was a small trap open in the roof and through this the language
kept pouring with never a stop, only now and then a roar like a
bull's. But at the third knock it died down to a sort of rumbling,
and presently came a shout, "Who's there?"
"A clergyman and justice of the peace," answers the Parson.
"I'll have your skin for this!"
"But you'll excuse me--"
"I'll have your skin for this, and your blood in a bottle! I'm a
British officer and a gentleman, and I'll have you stuffed and put in
a glass case, as sure as my name's Bligh!"
"Bligh?" says the Parson, opening the door. "Any relation to the
Blighs of St. Tudy? Oh, no it can't be!" he stammered, taken all
aback to see the man stark naked on the threshold. "Why--why, you're
the gentleman that called this morning!" he went on, the light
breaking in upon him: "excuse me, I recognise you by--by the slight
scar on your face.
Pages:
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297