"I can
hold my own."
"How is your prisoner?" I asked.
"The K--?"
"Your prisoner."
"I forgot your wishes, sire. Well, he is alive."
He rose to his feet; I imitated him. Then, with a smile, he said:
"And the pretty princess? Faith, I'll wager the next Elphberg will be
red enough, for all that Black Michael will be called his father."
I sprang a step towards him, clenching my hand. He did not move an inch,
and his lip curled in insolent amusement.
"Go, while your skin's whole!" I muttered. He had repaid me with
interest my hit about his mother.
Then came the most audacious thing I have known in my life. My friends
were some thirty yards away. Rupert called to a groom to bring him his
horse, and dismissed the fellow with a crown. The horse stood near. I
stood still, suspecting nothing. Rupert made as though to mount; then
he suddenly turned to me: his left hand resting in his belt, his right
outstretched: "Shake hands," he said.
I bowed, and did as he had foreseen--I put my hands behind me. Quicker
than thought, his left hand darted out at me, and a small dagger flashed
in the air; he struck me in the left shoulder--had I not swerved, it
had been my heart. With a cry, I staggered back. Without touching the
stirrup, he leapt upon his horse and was off like an arrow, pursued by
cries and revolver shots--the last as useless as the first--and I
sank into my chair, bleeding profusely, as I watched the devil's brat
disappear down the long avenue.
Pages:
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134