frightful thing that had happened, I looked in Derrick's face. Its
white fury appalled me. What he had borne hitherto from the Major,
God only knows, but this was the last drop in the cup. Daily
insults, ceaseless provocation, even the humiliations of personal
violence he had borne with superhuman patience; but this last
injury, this wantonly cruel outrage, this deliberate destruction of
an amount of thought, and labour, and suffering which only the
writer himself could fully estimate--this was intolerable.

What might have happened had the Major been sober and in the
possession of ordinary physical strength I hardly care to think. As
it was, his weakness protected him. Derrick's wrath was speechless;
with one look of loathing and contempt at the drunken man, he strode
out of the room, caught up his hat, and hurried from the house.

The Major sat chuckling to himself for a minute or two, but soon he
grew drowsy, and before long was snoring like a grampus. The old
landlady brought in lunch, saw the state of things pretty quickly,
shook her head and commiserated Derrick. Then, when she had left
the room, seeing no prospect that either of my companions would be
in a fit state for lunch, I made a solitary meal, and had just
finished when a cab stopped at the door and out sprang Derrick. I
went into the passage to meet him.

"The Major is asleep," I remarked.

He took no more notice than if I had spoken of the cat.

"I'm going to London," he said, making for the stairs. "Can you get
your bag ready? There's a train at 2.5."