The mountain nights are cool, and the thing may serve me well," he added whimsically.
He clapped on the hat and flung the cloak upon his shoulders.

It fell to his heels, and he gathered it together with one hand at the waist and strutted out into the hall, whither Oscar followed, staring, as Armitage began to declaim: "'Give me my robe; put on my crown; I have Immortal longings in me!' "'Tis an inky cloak, as dark as Hamlet's mind; I will go forth upon a bloody business, and who hinders me shall know the bitter taste of death.
Oscar, by the faith of my body, you shall be the Horatio of the tragedy.
Set me right afore the world if treason be my undoing, and while we await the trumpets, cast that silly pair of trousers as rubbish to the void, and choose of mine own raiment as thou wouldst, knave! And now-- "'Nothing can we call our own but death, And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings.'" Then he grew serious, tossed the cloak and hat upon a bench that ran round the room, and refilled and lighted his pipe.

Oscar, soberly unpacking, saw Armitage pace the hall floor for an hour, deep in thought.
"Oscar," he called abruptly, "how far is it down to Storm Springs ?" "A forced march, and you are there in an hour and a half, sir.".