The Day of Days eBook

Louis Joseph Vance
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 246 pages of information about The Day of Days.

The Day of Days eBook

Louis Joseph Vance
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 246 pages of information about The Day of Days.

“Left for where?”

“His apartments, I presume, sir.”

“Then I’ll see Mr. Brian Shaynon.”

The butler’s body filled the doorway.  Nor did he offer to budge.

“I’m afraid, sir, Mr. Shaynon is ’ardly likely to see any one at this hour.”

“He’ll see me,” replied P. Sybarite grimly.  “He hasn’t gone to bed, I gather?”

“Not yet, sir; but ‘e’s goin’ immediate’.”

“Very well.  You may as well let me in.”

Suspicious but impressed, the servant shuffled aside, and P. Sybarite brushed past him into the hallway.

“Where is he?”

“If you’ll give me your nime, sir, I’ll tell him you’re ’ere.”

P. Sybarite hesitated.  He was in anything but the mood for joking, yet a certain dour humour in the jest caught his fancy and persuaded him against his better judgment.

“Nemesis,” he said briefly.

“Mr.—­name—­what?  Beg pardon, sir!”

“Nem-e-sis,” P. Sybarite articulated distinctly.  “And don’t Mister it.  He’ll understand.”

“Thenk you,” muttered the servant blankly; and turned.

“If he doesn’t—­tell him it’s the gentleman who was not masked at the Bizarre to-night.”

“Very good, sir.”

The man moved off toward the foot of a broad, shallow staircase at the back of the hall.

On impulse, P. Sybarite strode after him.

“On second thoughts, you needn’t announce me.  I’ll go up with you.”

“I’m afraid I can’t permit that, sir,” observed the butler, horrified.

“Afraid you’ll have to.”

And P. Sybarite would have pushed past, but the man with a quick and frightened movement of agility uncommon in one of his age and bulk put himself in the way.

“Please, sir!” he begged.  “If I was to permit that, sir, it might cost me my position.”

“Well—­”

P. Sybarite drew back, relenting.

But at this juncture, from a point directly over their heads, the voice of Brian Shaynon himself interrupted them.

“Who is that, Soames?” he called impatiently, without making himself immediately visible.  “Has Mr. Bayard returned?”

“No, sir,” the butler called, distressed.  “It’s—­it’s a person, sir—­insists on seein’ you—­says ’is nime’s Nemmysis.”

What!

“He has it right—­Nemesis,” P. Sybarite replied incisively.  “And you may as well see me now, whether you want to or not.  Sooner or later you’ll have to!”

There was a sound of heavy, dragging footsteps on the upper landing, and Brian Shaynon showed himself at the head of the stairs; now without his furred great-coat, but still in the evening dress of elderly Respectability—­Respectability sadly rumpled and maltreated, the white shield of his bosom no longer lustrous and immaculate, his tie twisted wildly beneath one ear, his collar unbuttoned, as though wrenched from its fastenings in a moment of fury.  These things apart, he had within the hour aged ten years in the flesh:  gone the proud flush of his bewhiskered gills, in its place leaden pallor; and gone the quick, choleric fire from eyes now smouldering, dull and all but lifeless....

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Project Gutenberg
The Day of Days from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.