'
'He has said it, Sir.'
'Then, Sir, in the devil's name, didn't it strike you as going rather
fast to shoot me on my own hearth-stone--_me_, knowing all you do about
me--with no better warrant than the talk of a man with a shattered
brain, awakening from a lethargy of months? Sir, though the laws afford
no punishment exemplary enough for such atrocious precipitation, I
promise you I'll exact the last penalty they provide; and now, Sir, take
me where you will; I can't resist. Having shot me, do what you may to
interrupt my business; to lose my papers and accounts; to prevent my
recovery, and to blast my reputation--Sir, I shall have compensation for
all.'
So saying, Dangerfield, with his left hand, clapt his cocked hat on, and
with a ghastly smile nodded a farewell to Mrs. Jukes, who, sobbing
plentifully, had placed his white surtout, cloakwise over his shoulders,
buttoning it about his throat. The hall-door stood open; the candles
flared in the night air, and with the jaunty, resolute step of a man
marching to victory and revenge, he walked out, and lightly mounted to
his place. She saw the constables get in, and one glimpse more of the
white grim face she knew so well, the defiant smirk, the blood-stained
shirt-sleeve, and the coach-door shut.
Pages:
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873