Page:Arthur Stringer-The Loom of Destiny.djvu/141

The Honour of Hummerley thought Tiddlywinks, as he listened; and as the Ogre stood beside her and bent over her, it seemed to the child that he could be none other than the Supreme Ruler of the Bad Place.

When the song was finished, not one of the three persons in the room moved. Tiddlywinks was almost afraid to breathe.

After a long pause, he saw the tall man with the grey moustache suddenly bend down and put his arms around his mother. And his mother, his very own mother, leaned her head back in one long, long kiss. Tiddlywinks shuddered. By mere human intuition he knew it was wrong. He was only a child, a mere baby, but he thought of his father, and of his own promise, and the passion of the murderer went tingling through his childish veins. It was the instinct in him to protect his own—just as he had once bitten his German nursemaid for burning his nigger doll.

He stole in on his noiseless bare feet, over to the grate where the shining brass poker leaned against the metal. It was nearly as 129