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Updated: June 28, 2025
She walked quickly up the narrow street which led into the larger thoroughfare, and was soon on her way to Mr. Gering's office in Leadenhall Street. She arrived there just as the clock was striking nine. She did not allow herself even to feel nervous, but, walking boldly in, asked to see Mr. Gering at once. "Have you an appointment with him?" asked the clerk whom she addressed.
When they crossed swords again, Iberville, whether by chance or by momentary want of skill, parried Gering's disengage from tierce to carte on to his own left shoulder. Both had now got a taste of blood, and there is nothing like that to put the lust of combat into a man.
He trusted, however, to the time that had passed since the kidnapping, and on Gering's hunger for treasure. Phips had compromised, and why not he? But if Gering was bent on trouble, why, there was the last resource of the peace-lover. He tapped the rapier at his side.
Years again passed: her husband's life was in the stranger's hand. Through great danger she travelled to plead for her husband's life. Monsieur, she does not plead for an unworthy cause. She pleads for justice, in the name of honourable warfare, for the sake of all good manhood. Will will you refuse her?" She paused. Gering's eyes were glistening.
"How know you that?" "I have ears. You have promised to go with Phips. Isn't that so?" "What then?" "I will go with you." "Booty?" "No, revenge." "On whom?" "The man you hate Iberville." Gering's face darkens. "We are not likely to meet." "Pardon! very likely. Six months ago he was coming back from France. He will find you. I know the race." A sneer is on Gering's face.
More than once both had Gering within range of their muskets, but they held their hands, nor indeed did Gering himself, who once also had a chance of bringing Iberville down, act on his opportunity. Gering's men were badly exposed, and he sent them hard at the thickets, clearing the outposts at some heavy loss.
But she saw the hopelessness of the thing, everything was steadily acting in Gering's favour, and her father's trouble decided her at last. When Gering arrived at New York and told his story to his credit with no dispraise of Iberville, rather as a soldier she felt a pang greater than she ever had known.
Years again passed: her husband's life was in the stranger's hand. Through great danger she travelled to plead for her husband's life. Monsieur, she does not plead for an unworthy cause. She pleads for justice, in the name of honourable warfare, for the sake of all good manhood. Will will you refuse her?" She paused. Gering's eyes were glistening.
If Morris's eyesight had been better, he would have seen that Gering handled his wine nervously, and had put down his long Dutch pipe. He would also have seen that Iberville was smoking with deliberation, and drinking with a kind of mannered coolness. Gering's face was flushed, his fine nostrils were swelling viciously, his teeth showed white against his red lips, and his eyes glinted.
There was a kind of devilry at Iberville's large and sensuous mouth, but his eyes were steady and provoking, and while Gering's words went forth pantingly, Iberville's were slow and concise, and chosen with the certainty of a lapidary. It is hard to tell which had started the quarrel, but an edge was on their talk from the beginning.
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