All his life it had been his practice to take a
risk, for such is the Irish temperament--if the object to be
attained in any way justified it; and he was determined to avoid
at all costs the chance of a meeting with Strangwise. The latter
had probably read the name of Okewood in that morning's casualty
list, but Desmond felt more than ever that he distrusted the man,
and his continued presence in the neighborhood of Nur-el-Din
gravely preoccupied him.
He stood a moment by the open window and listened. The murmur of
voices went on in the taproom, but from another part of the house
he heard a deep laugh and knew it to be Strangwise's. Trusting to
Providence that the roof of the outhouse would be out of sight of
the yard door, Desmond swung his right leg over the window-sill
and followed it with the other, turning his back on the yard. The
next moment he was dangling over the side of the house.
Then from the yard below he heard Strangwise call:
"Rufus! Rufus!"
A heavy footstep sounded on the flags. Desmond remained perfectly
still. The strain on his arms was tremendous. If Strangwise
should go as far as the gate, so as to get clear of the yard, he
must infallibly see that figure clinging to the window-sill.
"Where the devil is that doggy" said Strangwise.
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