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Updated: November 17, 2025
A few loaves of sugar, or a bottle or two of good liqueur, given to the citoyenne Duplay would have saved Descoings. This little mishap proves that in revolutionary times it is quite as dangerous to employ honest men as scoundrels; we should rely on ourselves alone. Descoings perished; but he had the glory of going to the scaffold with Andre Chenier.
She flung it across to Iver and rested her chin on her hands, while her eyes followed his expression as he read. Duplay was all excitement, but old Mr Neeld had sunk back in his chair with a look of fretful weariness. Iver was deliberate; his glasses needed some fitting on; the sheet of paper required some smoothing after its contact with Mina's disordered and disordering hair.
In the first place she wanted to think about herself and her own feelings the one luxury of the unhappy. Secondly she was afraid again. For Harry suddenly seemed to be no protection now, and the horrors threatened by Duplay the interrogation, the lawyer's office, and the like recovered their dreadfulness.
Harry's attitude would be simple. He would at the proper time produce his certificates, testifying to the death of Sir Randolph, the marriage of his parents, his own birth. The copies were in perfect order and duly authenticated; they were evidence in themselves; the originals could be had and would bear out the copies. All this had been well looked after, and Duplay did not doubt it.
Even if so, I must have that gossip investigated and proved to be nothing but gossip." "Investigate it then," said the Imp peevishly. "You refuse me the materials. What you told Major Duplay was too vague. You know more. You can put me on the track." Mina was silent. Neeld wiped his brow with his handkerchief. Iver changed his tone. "Mina, we've been friends to you.
He now erased the passage, and wrote in its stead, "even with Eleanor Duplay I have some reserve, and I feel that I cannot throw it off with safety!" and having done this, he, laboriously copied, for the second time, the long letter which he had written.
Sloyd's nervous excitement and uneasy deference toward Iver were the only indications of any such thing. Duplay was there in the background, cool and easy. Iver himself was inclined to gossip with Harry and to chaff him on the fresh departure he had made, rather than to settle down to a discussion of Blinkhampton.
He looked at the Major on his right, and at Neeld on his left at the table; Mina was opposite, like the witness before the committee. "So is yours of politeness," she cried. "It's my house. Why do you come and bully me in it?" Duplay was sullenly furious. Poor Mr Neeld's state was lamentable. He had not spoken a word throughout the interview.
"These young fellows have plenty of enterprise, plenty of shrewdness, but they haven't got the grit to take big chances. They'll catch at a certainty." Sloyd's manner had gone far to bear out this opinion. Sloyd returned, but, instead of coming in directly, he held the door and allowed another to pass in front of him. Duplay jumped up with a muttered exclamation.
He drank some whiskey and soda-water, and smoked a cigar as he walked up and down. Yes, there were signs of dawn now; the darkness lifted over the hill on which Merrion stood. Merrion! Yes, Merrion. And the Major? Well, Duplay had not frightened him, Duplay had not turned him out. He was going of his own will of his own act anyhow, for he could not feel so sure about the will.
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