The clock struck two; my tired eyes closed,
but I was sure I could keep awake, and I began to repeat old songs
merely to test my memory and keep the brain active.
Crash! I was sitting on the floor. The clock struck one, two, three! Bob
was gone. I had fallen asleep and betrayed my trust. I could have cried,
but that would do little good. The door opened, and Darbishire
appeared--prowling stealthily and glaring. A long glitter met my eye,
and I saw that Bob had taken down an old Yeomanry sabre from the wall of
the next room. He came on, and I shrank under the shadow of my
arm-chair. He heaved up the sabre, and shouted, "Now, you beast, I've
got you on the hop!" and hacked at the bed with wild fury. As he turned
his back on me, I prepared to lay hold on him; he whirled round swiftly,
and my heart came into my mouth. I cried out, "Bob, old man!" He started
furiously for a second, and then made a pass at me, sending the steel
through my clothes on the right side. I felt a slight sting, but did not
mind, and by wrenching myself half round I tore the sabre from his
hand.
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