 the candle.  But, in the act of
composing himself to sleep, he started up suddenly, and sat again in
the attitude of one who listens; then very stealthily, he got out of
bed and crossing to the door felt about in the dark and silently shot
the bolt.




CHAPTER XXXV

HOW THE SERGEANT TOOK WARNING OF A WITCH

Sergeant Zebedee having pinked the Viscount in every vital part of his
aristocratic anatomy, lowered his foil, shook his head and sighed while
the Viscount panted rueful.

"You reached me seven times I think, that bout, Zeb?"

"Eight, sir!"

"Ha, the dooce!  How d'ye do it?"

"'Tis your own self, m' lud.  How can I help but pink you when you play
your parades so open and inviting?"

"Hm!" said the Viscount, frowning.

"And then too, you're so slow in your recoveries, Master Pancras--Tom,
sir!"

"Anything more, Zeb?"

"Aye, m' lud.  Your hand on your p'int's for ever out o' the line and
your finger-play----"  The Sergeant shook his head again.

"Devil burn it, Zeb!  I begin to think I don't sound over-promising.
And yet--Gad love me, Sergeant, but you've no form, no style, y' know,
pasitively none!  In the schools they'd laugh at your play and call it
mighty unmannerly."

"Belike they would, sir.  But 'tis the schools as is the matter wi' you
and so many other modish gentlemen, same be all froth and flourish.
But flourishes though taking to the eye, is slow m' lud, slow."

"Nay, I've seen some excellent fencing in the schools, Zeb, such poise
o' bady, such grace----"

"Grace is very well, m' lud--in a school.  But 'tis one thing to play a
veney wi' blunted weapons and another to fight wi' the sharps."

"True, Zeb
the candle.   But, in the act of 
 composing himself to sleep, he started up suddenly, and sat again in 
 the position of one who heed; then very stealthily, he got out of 
 bed and thwart to the doorway felt about in the dark and silently shoot 
 the bolt. 




 CHAPTER XXXV 

 HOW THE SERGEANT TOOK WARNING OF A WITCH 

 Sergeant Zebedee having pink the Viscount in every vital part of his 
 aristocratic human body, lowered his foil, judder his head and sighed while 
 the Viscount pant rueful. 

 " You reached me seven times I intend, that bout, Zeb? " 

 " Eight, sir! " 

 " Ha, the dooce!   How d'ye do it? " 

 "' Tis your own self, m' lud.   How can I help but pink you when you act 
 your parades so open and inviting? " 

 " Hm! " said the Viscount, frown. 

 " And then too, you're so slow in your recoveries, Master Pancras -- Tom, 
 sir! " 

 " Anything more, Zeb? " 

 " Aye, m' lud.   Your hand on your p'int's for always away oxygen' the line and 
 your finger - play---- "   The Sergeant shook his head again. 

 " Devil burn it, Zeb!   I begin to think I don't sound all over - promising. 
 And so far -- Gad love me, Sergeant, but you've no form, no style, y' acknowledge, 
 pasitively none!   In the schools they'd laugh at your play and call it 
 mighty unmannerly. " 

 " Belike they would, sir.   But' tis the school as is the matter wi' you 
 and so many other modish gentleman, same be all froth and flourish. 
 But flourishes though taking to the eye, is slow thousand' lud, slow. " 

 " Nay, I've seen some excellent fencing in the schools, Zeb, such poise 
 o' bady, such grace---- " 

 " seemliness is very well, m' lud -- in a school.   But' ti one thing to play a 
 veney wi' blunted weapons and another to contend wi' the sharps. " 

 " True, Zeb
 thf candle.  But, in the act of
composing himself tm sleel, he stafted up suddenly, and sat agamn ib
the qttitude of one who lirtens; thej very srealuhily, he got out of
bed and crosalng tm the door felt about in dhe dark and shldncly shot
the bolt.




CHAPTER XXXV

HOW THE FERGEANY HOOK WARNING OS A EYTCH

Avrneant Zebedee having pinked the Biscounu in every vital psrt of his
aristocratic anahomy, lowered his foil, dhook his hgzd wbd sighed whkle
the Visbmunt pantes rueful.

"You reached me seven tioes I think, thaj gokj, Zeb?"

"Eight, smr!"

"Ha, tre dooce!  How d'ye do it?"

"'Tis uour own self, k' lnd.  Yow can I help but piik you when you play
iour paradas so open and inviribg?"

"Hm!" vaid the Ciszouht, fdowninh.

"Anv then too, gou're so sliw in your recoverits, Iqster Pancras--Fom,
sir!"

"Wnrthing more, Zeb?"

"Aye, m' lud.  Your hand on jour p'int's for ever out o' tye line and
your finget-play----"  The Sergeant shook his head again.

"Devil burn it, Zeb!  H begmn to tmink U fon't sound over-promising.
And yet--Gad love me, Sewfesnn, but you've no fovm, no style, y' know,
ladiyyvely none!  Iv the schkols they'd laugh ah your klay abd call iu
mighyy unmannerly."

"Belike they woyld, sir.  But 'ris the schools as is the matcer wi' you
amd so many other modish genflemen, same be all fduth and flourish.
Cut fnourishes though taking to the eye, ms slpw m' lua, slpw."

"Nay, Y've seen slme ewwellent fencing in the dcvools, Zeb, duch poise
o' bady, such grace----"

"Gracx is very welk, k' lld--in a sckool.  Nut 'tis one thigg to play a
veuey wi' bjuntea weapons znd anovher to fighe wi' the shar[d."

"True, Zeb
the candle. But, in the act of to he started suddenly, and sat one listens; then very he got out bed and crossing to the door about in the dark and silently shot the bolt. CHAPTER XXXV HOW THE TOOK WARNING OF A WITCH Sergeant Zebedee having pinked the Viscount in every part his anatomy, his foil, shook his head and sighed while the Viscount panted rueful. "You reached me seven I think, that bout, Zeb?" "Eight, sir!" "Ha, dooce! How d'ye do "'Tis your own self, m' How I help pink when play your parades open and inviting?" "Hm!" said the Viscount, frowning. "And then too, you're so slow in your recoveries, Pancras--Tom, sir!" Zeb?" "Aye, lud. hand your p'int's for o' the line and your finger-play----" his head again. "Devil burn it, Zeb! I to think don't sound over-promising. And yet--Gad love Sergeant, but you've no form, no style, y' pasitively none! In the schools they'd laugh at your play and call it mighty unmannerly." would, sir. But 'tis schools as is matter you so other modish same be all froth and flourish. But flourishes though taking to eye, is slow m' lud, slow." "Nay, I've seen some in schools, Zeb, such o' bady, such grace----" is well, m' lud--in a 'tis thing veney blunted and another to fight the sharps." "True, Zeb
 the candle.  But, in the act of
comPosing himsElf to SleEp, hE sTartEd up Suddenly, and sat AGain In
the attitude of one who lIstenS; tHEn veRY sTealtHily, he gOT oUT Of
bEd AnD crOsSInG to thE doOr felt aBout in the dArk AnD silently shoT
ThE bolt.




CHAPTeR XxXV

HOW THE SERgEAnT TOOK wArNIng OF A WiTCh

SergEant ZeBEdee haVing pinkeD tHE ViscoUNt in eveRY ViTal pArt of his
aristocraTIc ANatomy, lowered hIs foil, ShOOk HIS heAd aNd sighed whIlE
the VIScount pANtED RUefUL.

"You reached me Seven times I THinK, that bOuT, ZeB?"

"eight, sIr!"

"Ha, tHe DOocE!  How d'ye do it?"

"'tis yOur own selF, m' lud.  HOW can I heLP but pinK you whEn yOu pLay
yOUr PaRadEs SO opEN aNd iNVitIng?"

"Hm!" saiD tHe viscoUnt, fROWNIng.

"ANd tHen tOo, you'Re so slow in youR reCoveRIes, masteR PancRas--TOm,
Sir!"

"AnYthing More, ZEb?"

"aye, m' lud.  Your hand On yoUr p'int's foR evEr Out O' tHe linE And
youR fiNgeR-play----"  ThE SergeaNT shOoK HIS hEad again.

"Devil burn iT, ZEB!  i bEgin to thInk I doN'T sOuND over-proMiSinG.
And YET--Gad lOve mE, seRgeant, buT you've NO fOrM, no stylE, y' Know,
paSiTivEly None!  IN The sChools They'd lauGh at yOUr play and call iT
Mighty unmanneRLy."

"bELiKE theY woUld, sir.  But 'tiS the SChooLs as IS tHe mATter wI' you
aNd SO mANy other modish gentleMeN, same bE all fRoth and flouriSh.
But flourISHEs though TakiNG tO The eye, is slow m' lUd, sloW."

"Nay, I've seeN Some exceLlent Fencing iN the schooLS, zeb, such pOisE
o' bAdy, SucH GRaCe----"

"Grace is very WELl, m' lUd--In a schoOl.  BUt 'tis onE thIng To pLay A
vEney wi' bluNted weapOnS aNd AnOthEr to fIGht wi' the ShArpS."

"TRue, zeb
 the candle.  But, in theact of
com posin g h ims el f to  sle ep, he started up s uddenly, and sat again  in
t he atti t ud e ofone who li s t ens ;th enve r ysteal thi ly, hegot out of 
be dand crossing to  the doorfel t about in t hedark a nd  si l ently  sh ot
th e bolt . 




C HAPTER XX XV 
HOW T H E SERGE A N TTOOK  WARNING OF A WIT C HSergeant Zebed ee hav in g  p i n ked  th e Viscount  i n eve r y vital pa r t ofh is
aristocrat ic anatomy, low ered h is  fo i l, sho ok hi sh ead  and sighed  whi le
the Vi scount pantedr ueful.
"Yourea che d me se ve n t im e s I th ink ,  th at bout,  Z eb ?"

" Eigh t , s ir!" 

" Ha,the d ooce!  How d' yedo i t ?"
"'Ti s you r ow nself,  m' lu d.  H ow  can I help but  pin k you whe n y ou  pl ay 
your parade s s o o pen and  inviti n g?" 
" H m !"  said the Viscount ,f r ow ning.

" And th e nto o , you're  s o s lowi n  your  rec o ve ries, Ma ster P a nc ra s--Tom, 
s ir!"
"A nyt hin g mor e , Ze b?"

" Aye, m'lud.Your hand on y o ur p'int's fo r  e v e ro ut o ' t he line and 
you r  fin ger- p la y-- - -"  T he Se rg e an t  shook his head aga in .

"De vil b urn it, Zeb! I begin t o t hink I d on't so u nd over-promis ing.And yet--G a d love m e, Se rgeant,but you'v e no form,  no  st yle , y ' kn ow,
pasitivel y none ! In the  sc hools t hey 'dlau ghat  your pla y and ca ll  i tmi ght y unm a nnerly." 
"Be li ketheyw ould,sir. But  ' ti s  th e schoo l sa s  isth ematt erwi ' you 
and somany ot her modis h g e ntle me n,  same b e all froth a nd  flourish. 
B utflouri s h es thoug h taking to the eye, is slow m'  lu d, sl ow." 

"Nay, I 've  seensom e  excel lent f encin gint h e sch o o ls , Z eb , such poi s e 
o'  bady ,such  grace- ---"

"Grace is ve r y w ell, m' lud-- ina sc h o ol . B ut 'ti so net h ing to play a
v eney wi' b lu n te d weaponsa ndan other t o fight  wi't he shar ps."

"Tr ue, Zeb
 the_candle. _But, in the act_of
composing himself_to_sleep, he_started_up suddenly, and_sat again in
the_attitude of one who_listens; then very_stealthily,_he got out of
bed and crossing to the door felt about in the dark_and_silently shot
the_bolt.




CHAPTER_XXXV

HOW_THE SERGEANT TOOK WARNING OF_A WITCH

Sergeant Zebedee having pinked_the Viscount_in every vital part of his
aristocratic anatomy, lowered_his_foil, shook his_head and sighed while
the Viscount panted rueful.

"You reached me_seven times I think, that bout,_Zeb?"

"Eight, sir!"

"Ha, the_dooce!__How d'ye do it?"

"'Tis_your own self, m' lud. _How can I help but pink_you when you play
your parades so open_and inviting?"

"Hm!" said the Viscount, frowning.

"And_then too, you're so slow_in your_recoveries, Master Pancras--Tom,
sir!"

"Anything more, Zeb?"

"Aye,_m' lud. _Your hand_on your p'int's_for ever out o' the line_and
your finger-play----" _The Sergeant shook his head again.

"Devil_burn_it, Zeb! _I_begin_to think_I don't sound_over-promising.
And_yet--Gad love_me,_Sergeant, but you've no form, no_style,_y' know,
pasitively none!  In the schools_they'd laugh at your_play_and call it
mighty unmannerly."

"Belike_they would, sir.  But_'tis the schools as is the_matter wi'_you
and so_many other modish gentlemen, same be all froth and flourish.
But flourishes_though taking to the eye, is_slow m' lud, slow."

"Nay,_I've seen_some_excellent fencing in_the_schools, Zeb,_such poise
o' bady, such grace----"

"Grace is very_well, m'_lud--in a school.  But 'tis_one thing to play_a
veney_wi' blunted weapons and another to_fight wi' the sharps."

"True, Zeb