I just
couldn't be there at 11.30."
"We'll never make that train--never in the world," groaned Dauntless.
"It's ten miles, and the road's horrible all the way. By Jove, Nell,
you must get out some way. It's now or never. I've got everything
fixed."
"Oh, Joe--listen! Do you think you can get a ladder out from under the
verandah? The painters left them there this morning. Look out for
paint, dear. Don't make a noise--not a sound. Mr. Windomshire's room
is just over the porte cochere. For Heaven's sake, don't arouse him."
"Drop your bag down first, dear,--here! I'll catch it."
"I've got to put some things in it first. It isn't quite ready," she
gasped, darting away from the window.
"'T was ever thus," he muttered in despair. Cautiously he made his way
to the end of the verandah. A close listener might have heard him
snarl "damn" more than once as he tugged away at the painters'
ladders, which had been left there when the rain began. He was a good-
natured chap, but barking his knuckles, bumping his head, and banging
his shins, added to the misfortunes that had gone before, were enough
to demoralise a saint.
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