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Updated: May 5, 2025
Gonzaga shuddered and would have crossed himself again for protection against what seemed a very devil incarnate, but that the ruffian's blood-shot eye was set upon him in a stony stare. "I come, cavaliere, I come," cried the timid host, leaping to his feet, and leaving the goat to burn while he ministered to the giant's unquenchable thirst.
Nothing that could most powerfully realise to the audience the ruffian's sense of horror and abhorrence has been there overlooked. The ghastly figure follows him everywhere. He hears its garments rustling in the leaves. "If he stopped, it stopped. If he ran, it followed."
But I give it you right here, I'll shift this doggone skunk out of your way." Scipio made no verbal reply. Just for a moment he looked into the gimlet eyes of the other. He saw the iron purpose there. He saw the stern, unyielding compression of the lean, muscular jaws. There was something tremendous in the suggestion of power lying behind this ruffian's exterior.
His precautions with regard to Tom were unneeded. The ruffian's hatred had been aroused by Hunter's suspicion, and confirmed by the blow. Nor did he refuse to start to Erith for assistance to convey the prisoner and the wounded man there.
"I will conduct you to the outlet," replied Jack; "but I cannot leave it till I have ascertained whether my mother also is a prisoner here." "I can answer that," replied Thames. "She is. The monster, Wild, when he visited my dungeon last night, told me, to add to my misery, that she occupied a cell near me." "Arm yourself with that ruffian's weapons," replied Jack, "and let us search for her."
Pendyce had listened, as he had formed the habit of listening to Edmund Paramor, in silence. He now looked up and said: "It's all that red-haired ruffian's spite. I don't know what you were about to stir things up, Vigil. You must have put him on the scent." He looked moodily at Gregory. Mr. Barter, too, looked at Gregory with a sort of half-ashamed defiance.
For a moment he hesitated: to ask this scarecrow his business would concede him the right to exist; and the ruffian's undamaged eye and his assured carriage were plain warning against any concession whatsoever. The visitor, therefore, spoke first, even as if he had been respectable. "I want to see Mr. Bruffin," he said. "Not at home," replied Charles, trying to boom like a butler.
Her look of fear and impatience changed at the last words to one of startled incredulity. "You, Mr. Gifford? What do you mean?" "Exactly what I say," he returned decisively, "I can prove, if need be, that you had no hand in that cowardly ruffian's death." "You? How?" the girl gasped, staring at him with dilated eyes. "I will convince you," he answered quietly.
"Tom! Tom!" broke in the wife, in a desperate attempt to soothe the ruffian's temper. "The boy can't help it, an' it's Christmas-eve. For the love o' " "To thunder with yer rot and with yer brat!" shouted the man, mad with the fury of passion. "Let me at him!" and, reaching over, he seized a heavy knot of wood and flung it at the head of the boy.
Hourigan, that it is not your logic, but your money I want." "Begad, sir, and I'm afeard you'll be forced to put up wid my logic this time, too. You can't take more from the cat than her skin, you know." There was an atrocious and sneering spirit, not only in this ruffian's manner, but in the tones of his voice, that was calculated to overcome human patience.
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