I don't care what comes of it, I'm innocent,
only you'll say I kept it too long to myself. But you can't touch my
life. I'm more afeard of him than you, and with good cause; but I think
he's in a corner now, and I'll speak out and take my chance, and you
mustn't allow me to be murdered.'
By this time Lowe had procured writing materials, and all being ready,
he and the curious and astonished doctor heard a story very like what we
have already heard from the same lips.
CHAPTER XC.
MR. PAUL DANGERFIELD HAS SOMETHING ON HIS MIND, AND CAPTAIN DEVEREUX
RECEIVES A MESSAGE.
Mr. Dangerfield having parted with Irons, entered the little garden or
shrubbery, which skirted on either side the short gravel walk, which
expanded to a miniature court-yard before the door of the Brass Castle.
He flung the little iron gate to with a bitter clang; so violent that
the latch sprang from its hold, and the screaking iron swung quivering
open again behind him.
Like other men who have little religion, Mr. Paul Dangerfield had a sort
of vague superstition. He was impressible by omens, though he scorned
his own weakness, and sneered at, and quizzed it sometimes in the
monologues of his ugly solitude.
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