Explore "The Honourable Mr. Tawnish" by Jeffery Farnol on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
So swift and altogether unexpected had been the end, that for a long minute there was a strange, tense stillness, a silence wherein all eyes were turned from the motionless form on the floor, with the ever-widening stain upon the snow of his shirt, to where Mr. Tawnish stood, leaning upon his small-sword. Then all at once pandemonium seemed to break loose -- some running to lift the wounded man, some wandering round aimlessly, but all talking excitedly, and at the same time.
"Dick and Bentley," says Jack, mopping at his face with his handkerchief, "it's in my mind that we have made a cursed mistake for once -- the fellow is a man."