| 275 | 276 | 277 | 278 | 279 |
| 1 | 74 | 149 | 223 | 297 |
|
lane beyond the gas-works, to rehearse a few miracles in private.
There was possibly a certain want of originality in his attempts, for
apart from his will-power Mr. Fotheringay was not a very exceptional
man. The miracle of Moses' rod came to his mind, but the night was dark
and unfavourable to the proper control of large miraculous snakes. Then
he recollected the story of "Tannhäuser" that he had read on the back of
the Philharmonic programme. That seemed to him singularly attractive and
harmless. He stuck his walking-stick--a very nice Poona-Penang
lawyer--into the turf that edged the footpath, and commanded the dry
wood to blossom. The air was immediately full of the scent of roses, and
by means of a match he saw for himself that this beautiful miracle was
indeed accomplished. His satisfaction was ended by advancing footsteps.
Afraid of a premature discovery of his powers, he addressed the
blossoming stick hastily: "Go back." What he meant was "Change back;"
but of course he was confused. The stick receded at a considerable
velocity, and incontinently came a cry of anger and a bad word from the
approaching person. "Who are you throwing brambles at, you fool?" cried
a voice. "That got me on the shin."
"I'm sorry, old chap," said Mr. Fotheringay, and then realising the
awkward nature of the explanation, caught nervously at his moustache.
He saw Winch, one of the three Immering constables, advancing.
"
What d'yer mean by it?" asked the constable. "Hullo! It's you, is it?
The gent that broke the lamp at the Long Dragon!"
77
2
Page
Quick Jump
|