Guy Earlscourt's Wife — page 53: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

qd.” le, ond such » nd Sir Vane, leliciouslv ex- Was not quar- entrance—an through them and again the remained ‘half lat Silence the them in that y—white and rom the room. turbance was ck. What did eavy eyes and married, and 3 character— » head of his drinking me- Plotting was id his mind, once with his ming of this. ‘im, Geoffrey rk lance. He driven him ship im which d no sou! left wedding day. mndered? Tle ro, by a cow- alendar: that His part in rrible shame irst sound of would fly to eath, if need money would want of this . **Whistled Down the Wind.” A} ¥ man’s life, and on the day Le compelled his niece to marry him, Sir Vane Charteris had promised him a check for ten thousand pounds. Everything had gone on so well; he had been in a glow of triumphant exultatton for a few weeks past, and now——and now! Ilis eyes glowed with a red, evil fire as he descended the staircase, his teeth set behind his black beard. Ile could con- front moral or physical danger with the brute courage of a tiger, | “A man always gains, be his case strong or weak,” he was accustomed to say, “by facing the worst boldly; weakness and jacillation always fail, as they deserve to do.” It was his theory, and he acted upon it, in every crisis of life, and up to this time had found it suceeeded. Ilis face looked as if carved in granite, as he descended to the entrance hall, for all trepidation, surprise, anger, fear, or any other human emotion it displayed. A porter, a butler, two high footmen, all were formed in a body to oppose the enemy—.a tall, young man in rough coat and broad-brimmed hat. “We can’t do nothink with him, sir,” the butler explained, in an indignant voice, which he says, like his impidence, as he will see you, Mr, Lyndith, sir.’ The two men apes each other full in the face, one level, powerful gaze. e younger man took off his hat. Good {leaven! what horrible reason Geoffrey Lyndith had to know that handsome, sunburned face. “Tl know this person, Edwards,” Mr. Lyndith said, quieily, “and will see him. Follow me, sir.” He led the way to the library, a stately apartment filled with books and busts and bronzes, and into which the noon sunlight came, softly tempered through closed venetians. Geoffrey Lyndith turned the key in the doo., crossed the room, leaned his elbow upon the crimson-velvet mantel, and faced his opponent. It was a duel to the death; and both knew it, no quarter to be asked or given—one or the other must go down before they left that room. The gentleman of the Old Guard, otherwise the master of the house, fired first. “This is an exceedingly unexpected honor, Robert’ J isle. You sailed two years and a half ago in the ship ‘Royal Char- ter, from Southampton. The ‘Royal Charter’ was burned, and all on board perished. May I ask how you came to be alive ?” His tone was perfectly cool; his face admirably calm, -his manner as nonchalantly gentlemanlike as though he had been remarking on the fineness of the weather, and the possibility very comicbooks.com