At last, ashamed
of his cowardice, he screwed up courage, and, with a look of
determined desperation in his eyes and mouth--an expression which
sent his wife into fits of laughter--set out one night from his
bedroom, candle in hand, and entered the bathroom. Shutting and
locking the door, he lighted another candle, and, after placing them
both on the mantelshelf, turned on the bath water, and began to
undress.
"I may as well have a peep in the cupboard," he said, "just to satisfy
myself no one is hiding there--for every one in the house knows how I
hate this beastly bathroom--with the intention of playing me a
practical joke. Supposing one of the maids--Polly, for example, I'm
sure she'd be quite capable--took it into her pretty head to"--but
here the Captain was obliged to stop; he really was not equal to
facing, even in his mind's eye, the situation such a supposition
involved, and at the bare idea of such a thing his countenance assumed
a deeper hue, and--I am loth to admit--an amused grin. The grin,
however, died out as he cautiously opened the door and peered
furtively in; no one--nothing was there! With a breath of relief he
closed the door again, placed a chair against it, and, sitting down,
proceeded to pull off his clothes. Coat, vest, under-garments, he
placed them all tenderly in an untidy heap on the floor, and then,
with a last lingering, affectionate look at them, walked sedately
towards the bath. But this sedateness was only momentary.
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