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Updated: June 25, 2025
John Steele's burning glance swept from Lord Ronsdale to Gillett; lingered with mute contemplation. What now remained to be done should be easily, it seemed almost too easily, accomplished. He felt like one lingering on the stage after the curtain had gone down; the varied excitement, the fierce play of emotion was over; the actors hardly appeared interesting.
"Lord Ronsdale who is staying at Strathorn House," he explained for the stranger's benefit. "And he's coming in!" The host hurried to the door but already a footstep was heard on the stairway and the voice of the nobleman inquiring for the new-comer's room. "Right up this way! The gentleman is in here, your Lordship," called down the landlord. Lord Ronsdale mounted leisurely and entered the room.
Perhaps," gaining in audacity, "your lordship would be so generous as to throw one or two now at one he once favored with his bounty." "I favored you? You lie!" The answer was concise; it cut like a lash; it robbed the man once more of all his hardihood. He slunk back. "Very good," he muttered. Lord Ronsdale turned and with a sharp swish of his cane walked on.
Lord Ronsdale again seated himself; his face had regained its hard mask; he motioned the other man to draw his chair closer. "I'll tell you how to proceed." The windows in Strathorn House shone bright; from within came the sound of music; in the billiard room, adjoining the spacious hall, a number of persons were smoking, playing, or watching the dancers.
Here Ronsdale lifted his hat. "May happen back this way," he observed. "That is," looking at Jocelyn Wray, "if you don't object?" "I? Not at all! Of course, it would bore you a trial! You are so easily bored. Is it the club?" "No; another engagement. Thank you so much for permission to return for you very kind. Hope you will find it amusing. Good morning!"
Lord Ronsdale did not at once answer and Sir Charles repeated his question; the nobleman mechanically raised his hand to his face. "Yes; a mere fugitive resemblance," he answered rather hurriedly. "Some one you you never met. Altogether quite a different sort of person, don't you know!" regaining his drawl. "Well," observed Sir Charles, "fugitive resemblances will happen!"
Gillett paused to look at Lord Ronsdale, seemed waiting for the latter to say something, but the nobleman only leaned forward and pushed at the coals with a poker. "Which brings to my mind the one point," with emphasis, "that I haven't been able so far to reconcile or to explain. Your lordship, who seems to have divined a great deal, can, perhaps.
But I see Miss Wray," rising and walking toward the door. "My dance, don't you know." She gazed after him. "I wonder why Lord Ronsdale does not approve of, or shall we say, dislikes Mr. John Steele?" "Eh? what? I never noticed." "A man notice?" She laughed. "But your game of billiards? You are looking for some one. If I will do ?" "Delighted!" he Said with an accent of reserve.
Ronsdale had stepped to the girl's side; his eyes, regarding her in the least degree too steadily, shone with a warmer gleam. She appeared either not to notice, or to mind; with look unreservedly bright, she smiled back at him; then her gaze met John Steele's. "Do you use the foils, Mr. Steele?" He moved forward; Lord Ronsdale stood near her, bending over with a slightly proprietary air.
The impassive, steel-like glance of Ronsdale played on the man; a white, shapely hand began to reach out. "One moment, and I'll give you in charge as " The fellow saw that Ronsdale meant it; he had but an instant to decide; a certain air of cheap, jaunty assurance he had begun to assume vanished. "All right," he said quickly, but with a ring of suppressed venom in his voice. "I'll be off.
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