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Updated: May 3, 2025
Davlin was further convinced that he, Henry, knew nothing save that the young lady rang for him to show her out, and he, according to orders, had obeyed. "Well, sir," Davlin said, at last, "I shall leave the lady and the premises entirely in your hands, as soon as the crisis has passed.
"Then let me do you another favor. Mr. Davlin is no more my brother than he is yours." Madeline's answer fairly took her breath away. "Madame, you are very good, but I have known that from the first." "What!" gasped the woman; adding, after a moment of silence, "Is he your lover as well as " "Yours?" finished Madeline. "And what then, Mrs. Arthur?" "Then," hissed Cora; "then, I hate you both."
And thus it was that Lucian Davlin, reappearing in Bellair and listening in well simulated surprise to the story of the sudden disappearance of John Arthur's step-daughter, effectually put to flight any idea forming in the brains of the few who knew, or conjectured, that these two had met that he had aught to do with her mysterious flitting.
At noon, the notary comes, and Edward Percy makes an affidavit as to the truth of the testimony that will convict Lucian Davlin. It is the affidavit of a fast dying man. All day Mrs. Ralston sits beside him. And Clarence Vaughan watches the slowly ebbing life tide. Once he seems struggling to say something, and his wife bends down to catch what may be some word of penitence.
And staring at Madeline the while, he produced a yellow envelope from some interior region, and presented it to Lucian Davlin, who tore open the cover, and took in the purport of the message at one glance. His face wore a variety of expressions: Annoyance, satisfaction, surprise, all found place as he read.
Even Miss Arthur, Percy, and Davlin agreed in calling the two maids, respectively, "Grenadier" and "Griffin." But only Cora knew that the two were better learned in the art of spying than in matters of the toilet. She knew herself to be under continual surveillance. Above stairs or below, Madeline or Hagar, Strong or Joliffe were not far away. And yet she had not abandoned her plan of escaping.
"Bury me like a gentleman." This is what he says, and Clarence Vaughan smiles bitterly as he thinks, "selfish and egotistical to the last." Night comes on and the end is very near. Over the dying face flits a malignant shadow, and he makes a last effort to speak. Again the watchers bend nearer. "I hope they will hang Davlin," he breathes, feebly.
"Why, Ma Belle, from your introduction to the hills and vales of Bellair, and the master of Oakley." "Oh, I thought it was from the time you received your pistol wound." Davlin smiled. "Yes, that scratch was given in June; but I don't date from trifles, Co." "Oh!
A place wherein to forget that the world held aught save beauty; a place for luxurious revelry, and repose filled with lotus dreams. Such was the bachelor abode of Lucian Davlin, as the glowing gas lights revealed it on the dark night of the arrival of this gentleman in the city.
And when, later, the fact was revealed to her, none save old Hagar could have named the precise date of the event. So even wise Cora never connected the fate of the unfortunate girl with the doings of Lucian Davlin.
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