The door of the corridor was flung open suddenly! The staccato of the
orchestra of the looms sounded more loudly and provided entrance music.
Astonishment rendered Mac Tavish _hors de combat_. He dropped his weights
and his lower jaw sagged.
It was the Morrison--breaking the ancient rule of St. Ronan's--ten minutes
ahead of time!
II
THE THREAT OF WHAT THE NIGHT MAY BRING
All the Morrisons were upstickit chiels in point of height.
Stewart had appeared so abruptly, he towered so dominantly, that a
stranger would have expected a general precipitateness of personality and
speech to go with his looks.
But after he had closed the door he stood and stroked his palm slowly over
his temple, smoothing down his fair hair--a gesture that was a part of his
individuality; and his smile, while it was not at all diffident, was
deprecatory. He began to roll down the sleeves of his shirt.
There was the repressed humor of his race in the glint in his eyes; he
drawled a bit when he spoke, covering thus the Scotch hitch-and-go-on in
the natural accent that had come down to him from his ancestors.
"I saw your car arrive, Senator Corson, and I broke the sprinting record.
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