The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 76: what you’re looking at

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

VENETIA AND HER AGENT o9 once break off all compromise and leave you to do your worst.’ “We shall see,’ observed Malpas, flippantly. ‘“ Ten minutes more, eh?’’ he continued, glancing at the time- piece. ‘In that ten minutes everything may be settled amicably between us. You do not seem to comprehend the position in which you stand. In the first place, what would his Royal Highness say if I were to inform him that you have been plotting and planning to counteract all his plots and plans? ’’ ‘He would not believe you,” responded Venetia, in a tone of apparent confidence, although she did not feel quite so certain on the subject as she chose to appear, and 1t was this misgiving that rendered her in reality anxious to put a golden seal upon the colonel’s lips. ‘“ Judging by your antece- dents, the prince knows you to be capable of the foulest. falsehood. ‘Therefore go and tell his Royal Highness what you choose. He would only wonder how you came to learn that there was any conspiracy in existence at all against the princess, but he would not believe you, even on oath, were you to declare that you obtained that knowledge from me, much less that I had actually employed you to counter- act the progress thereof.”’ | “Well,” exclaimed Malpas, a diabolical smile of satis- faction again appearing upon his features, ‘“‘ your ladyship now drives me to extremes. If the prince would not believe all those matters which you have detailed, is it any reason that he should disbelieve me if I assured him that his beau- tiful mistress, on whose head he has heaped wealth and , honours, has bestowed her favours on the Earl of Curzon? ”’ Venetia staggered as if struck by the sudden blow of a hammer, and while every shade and tint of vital colouring disappeared, leaving her cheeks pale as alabaster, she sank back upon the sofa whence she had risen a few moments previously. It was an awful consternation, a frightful dis- may that had seized upon her. Until this moment she had believed that Curzon, though an unprincipled libertine and a reckless profligate, as most aristocrats are, was neverthe- less high-souled and generous enough to keep the secret of an affair of gallantry as inviolably as if life itself de- pended on it. But no, it was evident that Curzon was a traitor, and that by his treachery her honour was now CORNICLOOOKS (C(O) im