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Updated: June 14, 2025
You or Vos Engo the one she loves, that's all. As for seconding you, I am at your service." King beamed. "That means, I take it, that you want me to win at least one of the contests. Well," with his whimsical, irresistible smile, "it won't be necessary to try for the other if Vos Engo shoots me in this one." "You will never know the extent of my gratitude, King.
What promise did you make to Vos Engo last Saturday after well, if you choose to recall it after I brought you back to him what did you promise him?" "Don't be cruel, Truxton," she pleaded. "I cannot forget all you have done for me." "You told Vos Engo to ride back and pick me up," he persisted. "He told me in so many words. Now, I want a plain answer, Loraine.
"I don't think I could hit him," he said with becoming modesty. They laughed aloud. "But, say, don't forget about Mr. King. Tell him I want him to parade most of the time in front of my windows." "He has a weak ankle," began Colonel Quinnox lamely. "Very difficult for him to walk," said Vos Engo, biting his lips. The Prince looked from face to face, suspicion in his eyes.
He could think of nothing to say, except: "I'm sorry to have been so late. I was detained." Involuntarily he glanced at Vos Engo. That gentleman started, a curious light leaping into his eyes. "Mr. King, we have asked you here for the purpose of hearing the full story of your experiences during the past two weeks, if you will be so good as to relate them. We have had them piecemeal.
Here they smoked in silence most of the time, each man's thoughts delivered to himself. Above, on the jutting rock, sat the disconsolate, lovesick Truxton. It was the night before the proposed assault on the gates. The guns were in position and the cannonading was to begin at daybreak. He was full of the bitterness of doubt and misgiving. Was she in love with Vos Engo?
Within his grasp, so to speak, and yet he could not hope to seize her, after all. Was she meant for that popinjay youth with the petulant eye and the sullen jaw? Was he to be the lucky man, this Vos Engo? The Baron's dry, insinuating voice broke in upon the young man's thoughts. "I think it's pretty well understood that she's going to marry him."
At last he struck the window sill a resounding thwack with his fist and announced his decision to the silent, disinterested wall opposite. "I'll take her advice. I'll get out. Not because I'm afraid to stay, but because there's no use. She's got no eyes for me. I'm a plain impossibility so far as she's concerned. It's Vos Engo damn little rat!
"Well, thank God for that. She isn't in this damnable hole. And," with a quickening of the blood, "she hasn't said she was going to marry Vos Engo." The sound of light breathing came to his ears. He sat up. His hands were free. It had not been a dream. She was lying over there asleep. The candle had burnt itself out, that was all.
Between us, he was sorely vexed and disappointed. When the gallant start was made from the glen of "dead men's bones," he found that he was to be cast utterly aside, quite completely ignored by the fair Loraine. She rode off with young Count Vos Engo without so much as a friendly wave of the hand to him. He said it over to himself several times: "not even a friendly wave of her hand."
What right has such a fellow as Vos Engo to a good American girl like Loraine? None whatever. Besides, I'm going to fight him when we're through fighting Marlanx. I want you as my second. Can't say whether it will be swords, pistols or knuckles. I hope you'll oblige me. As a matter of fact, I had two primary objects in looking you up out here in the hills.
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