Thinking it would make no difference to such a gorgeous young sybarite as Marden, I took the liberty of ordering ninepenny creams this time.
On returning to the saloon, what was my horror at finding it empty! There were the twelve cloudy glasses, standing in a circle on the sticky marble slab, and not a boy to be seen.

A pair of hands letting go their hold on the window-sill outside explained matters.

I had been made a victim.
I couldn't stay and face Pettingil, whose peppery temper was well known among the boys.

I hadn't a cent in the world to appease him.

What should I do?
I heard the clink of approaching glasses--the ninepenny creams.
I rushed to the nearest window.