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Updated: April 30, 2025
The most dangerous organization outside India was unquestionably that which had its headquarters at the "India House" at Highgate. It was there that Dinghra appears to have concocted the plot which resulted in the murder of Sir W. Curzon Wyllie and Dr.
As it neared her she glanced at its occupant. The next moment she was shrinking back into a doorway, white to the lips. The man in the car was Dinghra. Across the crowded pavement his eyes sought hers, and the wicked triumph in them turned her cold. He made no sign of recognition, and she seemed as though petrified till the motor had slowly passed.
I am asking you, Mr. Rivington, to give her up, and to name your price." "The devil you are!" said Rivington; but he said it without violence. He still sat motionless, his hands in his pockets, surveying his visitor. "I am rich," Dinghra said, still in those purring accents. "I am prepared to make you a wealthy man for the rest of your life.
He spoke without a trace of foreign accent. He stood in the middle of the room, facing Rivington, in a commanding attitude. Rivington took a seat on the edge of the table. He was still faintly smiling. "Go ahead, sir," he said. "Won't you sit down?" But Dinghra preferred to stand. "I am presuming that you are the Mr.
For there, close to her, was Dinghra, on foot, not six paces away, and drawing softly nearer. There was a faint smile on his face. His eyes were fixed and devilish.
Then, like lightning, he was on his feet. They stood face to face for an interval that was too pregnant with fierce mental strife to be timed by seconds. Then, with clenched hands, in utter silence, Dinghra turned away. He went softly, with a gliding, beast-like motion to the door, paused an instant, looked back with the gleaming eyes of a devil and was gone.
It was a case of " He dug his hands into his trousers pockets and pulled them inside out with an eloquent gesture. "So, of course, there was nothing for it but to wait." "Then why have you published the engagement now?" demanded Dinghra. Rivington smiled. "Because we are tired of waiting," he said. "You are in a position to marry, then? You are "
You will be able to marry, if you desire to do so, and live in ease and luxury. Come, Mr. Rivington, what do you say to it? You detest poverty. Now is your chance, then. You need never be poor again." "You're uncommonly generous," said Rivington. "But is the lady to have no say in the matter? Or has she already spoken?" Dinghra looked supremely contemptuous.
Her eyes flashed startled interrogation at him. "If I married!" she repeated almost fiercely. "I would rather die!" "I didn't suggest that you should marry Dinghra," he pointed out mildly. "He is not the only man in the world." The hot colour rushed up over her face. "He is the only one that ever wanted me," she said, in a muffled tone. "Quite sure of that?" said Rivington.
"And I think at the end of my treatment that you will stand a considerably better chance of winning her favour than you do at present," he added, faintly smiling. An awful silence followed his words. Dinghra stood as though transfixed for the space of twenty seconds. Then, without word or warning of any sort, with a single spring inexpressibly bestial, he leapt at Rivington's throat.
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