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Updated: June 22, 2025
But unless you justify yourself by finding the letter you are seeking, you shall have to reckon with the consequences of discomposing a gentleman for nothing. Now, sir! Is it a bargain?" Mr. Green looked him over, and if he was shaken by the calm assurance of Mr. Caryll's tone and manner, he concealed it very effectively. "We'll make no bargains," said he. "I have my duty to do."
He was so calm, so master of himself, that Wharton perceived how groundless must have been his first notion. Whatever might be Mr. Caryll's motives, it was plain from his most perfect composure that they were not motives of fear. His grace's half-contemptuous smile was dissipated. "This is mere trifling, Mr. Caryll," he reminded his principal, "and time is speeding.
They are giving him rope at present. Meanwhile, by my cursed folly, Caryll's visits to him were interrupted. But there has been correspondence between them." "I know," said her ladyship. "A letter was delivered him just now. I tried to smoke him concerning it. But he's too astute."
Caryll's already considerable cogitations. The parson faced them, fumbling at his book, Mr. Caryll's eyes watching him with that cold, level glance of theirs. The parson looked up, met that uncanny gaze, displayed his teeth in a grin of terror, fell to trembling, and dropped the book in his confusion. Mr. Caryll, smiling sardonically, stooped to restore it him. There followed a fresh pause. Mr.
And behold me the port and glance of her! Cold as a vestal, let me perish!" Lady Mary turned with the others to look in the direction he was pointing pointing openly, with no thought of dissembling. Mr. Caryll's eyes fell upon Mistress Winthrop, and his glance was oddly perceptive. He observed those matters of which Mr.
He turned to ask the convalescent how he did. Her ladyship rose to withdraw, and at that moment Leduc made his appearance with a salver, on which was a bowl of soup, a flask of Hock, and a letter. Setting this down in such a manner that the letter was immediately under his master's eyes, he further proceeded to draw Mr. Caryll's attention to it. It was addressed in Sir Richard Everard's hand. Mr.
It was one of his cherished beliefs that the evil that men do has a trick of finding them out in this life, and here, he believed, as shrew-ridden husband and despised father, the Earl of Ostermore was being made to expiate that sin of his early years. Another of Mr. Caryll's philosophies was that, when all is said, man is little of a free agent.
Caryll's mind at the moment that Lady Ostermore and her son might between them brew such mischief as might seriously hinder him from travelling, and he was very near the truth. For already her ladyship was closeted with Rotherby in her boudoir.
The hostess called a drawer to serve him, and departed herself upon the momentous business of Mr. Caryll's dinner. "A warm day, sir," said the chubby man. Mr. Caryll agreed with him politely, and finished his glass, the other sipping meanwhile at his ale. "A fine brew, sir," said he. "A prodigious fine brew! With all respect, sir, your honor should try a whet of our English ale." Mr.
Caryll's sword; then, easily but irresistibly, it was lifted out of Rotherby's hand, and dropped on the turf a half-yard or so from his lordship's stockinged feet. A cold sweat of terror broke upon him. He caught his breath with a half-shuddering sob of fear, his eyes dilating wildly for Mr. Caryll's point was coming straight as an arrow at his throat.
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