ComicBooks.com Register / Loginit's free!

Penny Dreadfuls, 1888 · page 208 of 242

Gratia's Trials — page 208: what you’re looking at

📖 Open the full issue in the page-flip reader →
Gratia's Trials — page 208: Penny Dreadfuls, 1888

A restored page from Penny Dreadfuls, 1888. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.

📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)

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

-@RATIA'S TRIALS. 199 brandy, Hugo—there’s a deadly feeling round my heart—that’s all I need.” | As Colonel Falconer held a glass of brandy to his brother’s pallid lips, Dr. Hayley stooped to examine the wound as well as he could.’ It was but a brief ceremonial ; and then, straight- ening himself up again, he slightly nodded his head in answer to Hugo's inquiring look. ; ‘‘ He speaks but too truly,” he said, ina low tone. ‘‘ Your brother, sir, has received his death-wound. He may live two hours, perhaps—certainly not longer.” ‘«’Two hours!” echoed Robert, whose ears, preternaturally sharpened, had caught the words that were never intended for them. ‘‘Is that all? Well, two hours are long enough fora man to live who feels as if a stream of red-hot coals were pour- ing through his chest. More brandy, Hugo—more! I’ve some- thing to tell you before I shut the world’s gates behind me, and the strength is all going out of my tongue.” By this time the brilliantly lighted drawing-room was nearly empty. With that delicate good breeding which is a species of instinct, the guests had, one by one,, withdrawn. Mrs. Falconer bent over her son, with a very pale face and hands tightly clasped together, and Hugo supported his head as he lay on the sofa, while Alberta was weeping hysterically, entirely heedless of the gory stains of blood which had be- smeared her costly dress. Ida stood, very pale, beside her aunt, and the door-way was blocked by the heads of the curious servants. | As the wretched young man gulped down the fiery liquid which Hugo gave him, a new strength seemed to gush into his veins. 2 “It’s a sorry lookout,” he said, with a husky attempt ata laugh. ‘‘I never expected it to come quite so soon; but before I die, I must get one thing off my mind. Icouldnt — sleep quietly in my grave if it lay, like a black weight, on my conscience. I am no coward,” he added, slowly. ‘‘I have Eomicbooks..co m