His movements were
still horribly deliberate, and his eyes lingered gloatingly on his
dear boxes, as he moved to and fro about the drawing-room,
gathering a few small trifles. Last of all, he lifted one of the
squares of dynamite.
'Put that down!' cried Somerset. 'If what you say be true, you
have no call to load yourself with that ungodly contraband.'
'Merely a curiosity, dear boy,' he said persuasively, and slipped
the brick into his bag; 'merely a memento of the past--ah, happy
past, bright past! You will not take a touch of spirits? no? I
find you very abstemious. Well,' he added, 'if you have really no
curiosity to await the event--'
'I!' cried Somerset. 'My blood boils to get away.'
'Well, then,' said Zero, 'I am ready; I would I could say, willing;
but thus to leave the scene of my sublime endeavours--'
Without further parley, Somerset seized him by the arm, and dragged
him downstairs; the hall-door shut with a clang on the deserted
mansion; and still towing his laggardly companion, the young man
sped across the square in the Oxford Street direction.
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