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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"A Perilous Secret"

I was only a
rogue, you have made me a man of blood. All the worse for you. I have
murdered _them_, I'll execute _you_," and with these words he bounded on
him like a panther.
Monckton tore the doors open, and dashed out, but a furious blow fell
before he was quite clear of the doorway. With such force was it
delivered that the blunt metal cut into the edge of the door like a
sword; the jamb was smashed, and even Monckton, who received but
one-fourth of the blow, fell upon his hands and knees into the hall and
was stunned for a moment, but fearing worse, staggered out of the hall
door, which, luckily for him, was open, and darting into a little grove
of shrubs, that was close by, grovelled there in silence, bleeding like a
pig, and waiting for his chance to escape entirely; but the quaking
reptile ran no further risk.
Bartley never followed him beyond his own room; he had been goaded into a
maniacal impulse, and he returned to his gloomy sullenness.
* * * * *
Walter's declaration, made so suddenly before four persons, startled
them greatly for a moment--but only for a moment.


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