Thrice Lost, Thrice Won — page 202: what you’re looking at

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

coe . oa "The Second Flight. 197 Robert B taieinis: own. icone] swagger, was akenedl in. . ‘vant lit the gas, and the master of the house arose to re ceive the visitor, with a, face that. seemed carved in ee the 2 servant who lit the gas, returning to the kitchen con- e, “then I’m a Dutchman. Master’s got ten years older in syne hour.” "ae blaetk-bearded stranger’ s visit was of the briefest. A ter of an hour, and the street door closed behind him, 3 errand satisfactorily concluded. “ | will call upon your friend, Mr. Waldron, then, trivisindie seven. to-morrow—the place, Weehawken. Don’t trouble your- ) st in any way, my dear sir; Mr. Waldron and I will arrange : all minor matters. Good-night. . - It was Mr. Bartram who let his black-a-vised visitor out i‘ Liege As he closed the door Mrs. Hamilton came sweep- x along the hall, with a concerned face and a mighty swish o! f silk. The young man turned his rigid, death-white face to-her. — : “Ts Mrs. Bartram better? Is she awake?” he asked. . pfve es—to both questions. Dear Mr. Bartram, I have been s0 anxious to see you—so anxious to know whether I have ie “ad fang Sain Y me, . But he cut her short with an imperious wave of his hand “That will do, madame—I understand you and your mo- tin ves perfectly. Later we will find time to settle our little >? account. Where will I find my—your mistress 2” “In her dressing-room.” | _ He waited for no more. He ascended the stairs suid oat ard face in speechless terror to the tall, dark form and sto! ny countenance of the husband she loved—the husband she > had lost. & = One word, Estella,” he said, in a deep, concentrated voice, s dark eyes seeming to burn into her very soul; “only one el amt: the truth, if you can. Are you Robert Bartram’ 3 ‘she y Hitesd her imploring handa witha piteous, hysterical ad (e286 >. ix > ed tee tt Reet che extol. “for the doar Lord’s sake——” ‘Hush pr ” he interrupted, sternly; “no more hysterics-—no , > de eect. (h have eam you rath one word—tI will hear no os “And if something hired doesn’t happen soon,” remarked :: ely,” he said, with his hlandest smile. “And the hour— © dc lone right or wrong in sending you. that fatal letter. Believe aight to the apartment named: Without ceremony he . on ned the door, and saw Estella on her knees, her face — ou uried i in the pillows of a lounge. She lifted her pallid, hag- — (eo) * rh ae Bute oe ae : cCOMICE 200 ‘S