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Updated: June 14, 2025
Newlington goes to-day to offer him twenty thousand pounds; and the Duke is to do him the honour of supping at his house to-morrow night to fetch the money. It is a reasonable request for Mr. Newlington to make under the circumstances, and the Duke cannot dare not refuse it." "But how will that advance your project?"
As they reached the door, a woman's cry broke the silence behind them. Monmouth turned. Mr. Newlington, purple of face and his eyes protruding horridly, was beating the air with his hands. Suddenly he collapsed, and crashed forward with arms flung out amid the glass and silver of the table all spread with the traitor's banquet to which he had bidden his unsuspecting victim.
She advanced towards Ruth and laid a trembling hand on her shoulder, where the white gown met the ivory neck. "He must be warned," she said. "But.., but how?" stammered Ruth. "To warn him were to betray Sir Rowland." "Sir Rowland?" cried Diana in high scorn. "And... and Richard," Ruth continued. "Yes, and Mr. Newlington, and all the other knaves that are engaged in this murderous business.
They say that Newlington himself is dead." He poured himself more wine. Ruth listened, her eyes burning, the rest of her as cold as ice. "But...but.., oh, thank God that you at least are safe, Dick!" "How did you escape?" quoth Diana. "How?" He started as if he had been stung. He laughed in a high, cracked voice, his eyes wild and bloodshot. "How?
Newlington who was, himself, to take the first step. Well pleased with his evening's work, Sir Rowland went home to Lupton House and to bed. In the morning he broached the matter to Richard.
And his eye, glittering between cruelty and mockery, fixed itself upon the merchant's ashen face. "It... it shall be forthcoming by morning," stammered Newlington. "By morning?" cried Grey, who, with the others, watched Mr. Newlington what time they all wondered at Mr. Wilding's question and the manner of it. "You knew that I march to-night," Monmouth reproached the merchant.
Cheering broke from the crowd as the carriage drew up, and the Duke-King as he alighted turned his handsome face, on which shone the ruddy glow of torches, to acknowledge these loyal acclamations. He passed up the steps, at the top of which Mr. Newlington fat and pale and monstrously overdressed stood bowing to welcome his royal visitor.
His wife and daughter ran to him and called him by name, Monmouth pausing a moment to watch them from the doorway with eyes unmoved. But Mr. Newlington answered, not their call, for he was dead.
If he did realize it he was cynically indifferent, and lest we should be doing him an injustice by assuming this we had better give him the benefit of the doubt, and take it that in the subsequent bustle of departure, his mind filled with the prospect of the night attack to be delivered upon his uncle's army at-Sedgemoor, he thought no more either of Mr. Newlington or of Mr. Wilding.
This Newlington, an exceedingly prosperous merchant and one of the richest men perhaps in the whole West of England, looked with extreme disfavour upon Monmouth, whose advent had paralyzed his industries to an extent that was costing him a fine round sum of money weekly.
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