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Updated: June 5, 2025
Then the Duke blazed out, which was very much what I expected from him. Horror, amazement, and scornful disbelief were all expressed in his transfigured face and angry words. "Blenavon! My son! The confederate of a French spy! What nonsense! Who dares to suggest such a thing? Angela I I beg your pardon." He stopped short, making an effort to regain his self-control.
"I am afraid," he remarked, with an odd little smile, "that Blenavon will scarcely regard the matter in the same light." "Bother Blenavon!" she answered lightly. "I suppose you know that he's gone off abroad somewhere?" "I had a hurried line from him with information to that effect," the Duke answered.
The woman was saved, though, by-the-bye." "The woman is still alive," I told him, "but I will answer for her silence. I allow her a small pension all she would accept. She is living in the south of France somewhere." "And Blenavon," Lord Chelsford said, with a smile, "has married an American girl who has made a different man of him. What character those women have!
He felt his foot a little easier, and he was simply looking for a newspaper or something to read until you returned. Inadvertently he turned over some of your manuscript, and at that moment you entered." "Most inopportunely, I am afraid," I answered, with an unwilling smile. "I am sorry, Lord Blenavon, that I cannot accept this explanation of the Prince's behaviour.
"I am so glad that he has come down before the others," she said. "I am longing to have a talk with him. And I don't believe he knows anything about Blenavon. No, he's far too cheerful." She went straight up to him and passed her arm through his. He greeted me stiffly, but not unkindly. "I am so glad that you have come," she said. "If I had not heard I should have telegraphed to you.
I was left alone with my father, but he never stirred during her absence, nor did I speak to him. She returned in a few minutes, dressed very quietly, and wearing a veil which completely obscured her features. We walked to the corner of the square, and then I called a hansom. "I know nothing about Lord Blenavon," she said, a little wearily.
She hasn't a penny, they tell me, until her father dies, and they work on their ranch from sunrise. She will be an ornament to our aristocracy when they do come back." "They are coming next spring," I remarked, "if they can do it out of the profits of the ranch not unless. Blenavon has carried out his father's wishes to the letter, and cut off the entail of everything that was necessary."
"Is it so impossible?" I asked, moving a little nearer to the huge log fire. "What company is more terrifying than the company of our dead thoughts and dead hopes and dead memories?" "Really, I am afraid that Blenavon must have been a very depressing companion!" she said, leaning her elbow upon the broad mantelpiece. It was absurd! I tried to shake myself free from the miseries of the last hour.
I had believed from the first that Blenavon was one of my two assailants. Now I was sure of it. "When he does come back," I remarked grimly, "you may find him more or less damaged." "Mr. Ducaine," she said, "you must explain yourself." I saw no reason why I should not do so. I told her the story of my early morning adventure. She listened with quivering lips.
I abandoned the subject then and there. But as I left the room I came face to face with Blenavon, who was loitering outside. He at once detained me. His manner since the morning had altered. He addressed me now with hesitation, almost with respect. "Can you spare me a few minutes, Mr. Ducaine?" he asked. "I will not detain you long." "I am at your service, Lord Blenavon," I answered.
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