He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. “Permit me to offer you the English paper which has just arrived, Sir John,” he said, holding out a Daily Telegraph. He had not had time to aim the pistol. He waited for an instant, wasting an encouraging smile in the imperfect light, and then shut the doors of the van, leaving the women in darkness. Mrs. ‘Dieu du ciel, but answer me!’ Martha’s eyes were swimming again, and she reached out. “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you.
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