The
thing was beautiful!
"Her grace will be home almost as soon as you are--when you have given me
the money which I perceive you have all ready for me in that scarcely
elegant-looking canvas bag." He shrugged his shoulders quite gracefully.
"Unfortunately, in these matters one has no choice--one is forced to ask
for gold."
"And suppose, instead of giving you what is in this canvas bag, I take you
by the throat and choke the life right out of you?"
"Or suppose," amended Mr. Dacre, "that you do better, and commend this
gentleman to the tender mercies of the first policeman we encounter."
The stranger turned to Mr. Dacre. He condescended to become conscious of
his presence.
"Is this gentleman your grace's friend? Ah--Mr. Dacre, I perceive! I have
the honor of knowing Mr. Dacre, though, possibly, I am unknown to him."
"You were--until this moment."
With an airy little laugh the stranger returned to the duke. He brushed an
invisible speck of dust off the sleeve of his coat.
"As has been intimated in that infamous letter, his grace is at perfect
liberty to give me into custody--why not? Only"--he said it with his
boyish smile--"if a particular communication is not received from me in
certain quarters within a certain time the Duchess of Datchet's beautiful
white arm will be hacked off at the shoulder.
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