I'm rather shy at first, but I get warmed up to my subject.
What would you like to hear about?"
Katherine exchanged a glance with Austin.
"Don't you think we might put off the rest till another day?"
"Yes, old chap. Put it off till to-morrow. It's your birthday, you
know."
"Birthday? What's that got to do with it? Who knows what may happen
between then and now? No--no. I'm all right," he cried wildly. "You're
here, and you've got to listen. I'll get into fine form presently.
Look!" he said, pointing to the helmet he was holding. "Here is a
Cromwellian morion. It was picked up by an ancestor at Naseby. It has a
clean cut in it. That's where an honest gentleman's sword found its way
into the knave's skull--the puritanical, priggish, canting knave."
He threw the helmet with a clatter on to the table as if it had been the
knave's canting head. He caught up a weapon.
"This is a partisan. All you had to do when you got it inside a man was
to turn it round a bit, and the wound gaped and tore. This tassel is for
catching the blood and preventing it from greasing the handle.
Pages:
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97