THE UNSPEAKABLE GENTLEMAN
took a few unhurried steps across the room, and glanced about him critically.
"A busy day, my son," he said, "a very busy day, and a humorous one as well. They think they can get the paper. They think—but they are all mistaken."
"You are sure?" I inquired.
"Perfectly," said my father. "I shall dispose of it in my own way. I am merely waiting for the time."
"Huh!"
Brutus cupped his great hand behind his ear, and nodded violently. My father stepped toward the hallway, and listened. Above the hissing of the fire I heard a voice and footsteps. He straightened the lace about his wrists, and his features lost their strained attention. As he turned towards Brutus, he seemed younger and more alertly active than I had ever known him.
"Ah, what a day," he said, "what a day, to be sure. They are coming, Brutus. Gad, but the years have been long since I have waited for them! Place the glasses on the table, Brutus. We still must be hospitable."
The knocker on our front door sent a violent summons, but my father did not seem to hear it. With graceful deliberation
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