THE PRODIGAL HUSBAND The unlucky Brock, wild with rage and chagrin, had paced his temporary prison in the top storey of the Tirol from eleven o'clock till two, bitterly cursing the fools who were keeping him in durance more vile than that from which they had generously released him.

He realised that it would be unwise to create a disturbance in the house by clamouring for freedom, because, in the first place, there already had been scandal enough, and in the second place, his distrustful bondsmen had promised faithfully to seek out the devoted Connie and apprise her of his release.

He had no thought, of course, that in the mean time she might be duped into paying a bribe to the guard.
Not only was he direfully cursing the trio, but also the addlepated Medcroft and his own addlepated self.

It is to be feared that he had harsh thoughts of all the Medcrofts, as far down as Raggles.

His dream of love and happiness had turned into a nightmare; the comedy had become a tragic snarl of all the effects known to melodrama.