CHAPTER XIV 



BLACK LARRY 



Her room was situated at the back of the house, 

 overlooking the kitchen-garden. Any sound from 

 the stable-yard would reach it, and she determined 

 to He awake and listen. Moriarty's description 

 of the expected desperado, " over six fut and as 

 black as a flue-brush," seemed to promise develop- 

 ments. Like most women, she had a horror of 

 fighting, and, Hke most women, fighting had a 

 fascination for her. She had no fear of the result. 

 Mr French, Mr Dashwood, Moriarty and the stable 

 helper, not to mention Andy, formed a combina- 

 tion bad to beat, even against a dozen Black 

 Larrys. All the same, there was a certain heart- 

 catching excitement about the business not 

 altogether unpleasurable, and never did the 

 silence of the great old house seem more freighted 

 with the voices of the past ; never did the ticking 

 of the huge old clock on the landing outside seem 

 more pronounced than just now as, lying in bed 

 with a candle burning on the table by her side and 

 Tartarin of Tarascon open in her hand, she listened. 

 The bed she was lying in was the bed that once 

 had supported Dan O'Connell's portly person. 



150 



