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Updated: June 17, 2025
In hot haste from the south hills she had come to warn Benton's division of the ambuscade preparing for it, riding by highway and byway, her heart in her mouth, taking every perilous chance. And now, at the last moment, here in the West Virginian Mountains, almost within sight of the pass itself, disaster threatened the human machine was giving out.
Various stalks of tropical-looking palms, distributed artistically about, concealed the gaping wounds in the walls, inflicted by the Benton children, who had once occupied this same apartment. Mexican water-jars, bearing peacock feathers, screened Mr. Benton's two favorite places for scratching matches.
One Sunday morning when this happy family gathered around the breakfast table, Harry Benton's appetite was absent. He could not eat. He steadfastly gazed through the east window of the beautiful dining room into the park which spread itself over several acres of ground just across the street from his home. "Harry, dear, why do you not eat?" remarked his wife.
Benton's yacht?" he inquired. Karyl nodded. "The yacht." "I, too, had thought of that, but how can you arrange it, Your Majesty?" "We must persuade her that she requires a change of scene and that this is the one way she can have it without conspicuousness.
Benton's up in the air because Howes showed him that Ascension study she did over here you know he never could bear Haydon or his work and he was as mad as hops that he should be butting in with any of his own special pets like Howes." "How mean!" cried Patricia spiritedly. "Bruce hasn't even seen that study. What did he say about it?"
He was afraid she would ask this question. "No, I guess they didn't find her, Martha. They was searchin' the river when we pulled out from Benton's. I haven't heard anything since. She's Henry Randall's daughter, I believe." "And his wife, Sam'l, was old Silas Parks' daughter. He was the real estate man who sold that bed of rocks to Mr. Hampton.
Benton's office, got his permission to go home, packed his valise, and in five minutes was on his way to the depot. He was just in time for the afternoon train. At seven o'clock in the evening he entered the avenue that led to his father's house. Throwing open the front door, he met Margaret in the hall. "I'm glad you're here, Master Jasper," said the faithful handmaiden, heartily.
She did not wish to arouse Doctor Benton's professional anxiety by asking questions about Lady Maureen Darcy, but, by a clever and adroitly gradual system of what was really cross examination which did not involve actual questions, she drew from him the name of the woman who had been Lady Maureen's chief nurse when the worst seemed impending.
He was all but dead, with hopeless wounds in his throat and belly. He had been struck by a leopard within a few yards of Benton's side, and, with his usual pluck, the dog turned upon the leopard in spite of his wounds, when the cowardly brute, seeing the man, turned and fled. That night Leopold died.
Benton's face grew a little sharper, and the gleam of his eye for a second was like a fierce light, and he answered gravely: "My years do number more, but in my heart I stand beside you. I would have waited longer to tell you, but I am going away." I looked wonderingly. "A friend is ill.
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