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Dead Men Tell No Tales | E. W. Hornung | |
Chapter XIX My Great Hour |
Page 6 of 8 |
There was a short pause. "Well, you are not a coward, at all events!" "Nor a murderer, Eva!" "God forbid." "Then forgive me for everything else that I have been - to you!" And he was on his knees where I had knelt scarce a minute before; nor could I bear to watch them any longer. I believed that he loved her in his own way as sincerely as I did in mine. I believed that she detested him for the detestable crime in which he had been concerned. I believed that the opinion of him which she had expressed to his face, in my hearing, was her true opinion, and I longed to hear her mitigate it ever so little before he went. He won my sympathy as a gallant who valued a kind word from his mistress more than life itself. I hoped earnestly that that kind word would be spoken. But I had no desire to wait to hear it. I felt an intruder. I would leave them alone together for the last time. So I walked to the door, but, seeing a key in it, I changed my mind, and locked it on the inside. In the hall I might become the unintentional instrument of the squire's capture, though, so far as my ears served me, it was still empty as we had left it. I preferred to run no risks, and would have a look at the subterranean passage instead. "I advise you to speak low," I said, "and not to be long. The place is alive with the police. If they hear you all will be up." Whether he heard me I do not know. I left him on his knees still, and Eva with her face hidden in her hands. |
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Dead Men Tell No Tales E. W. Hornung |
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