What Will He Do with It? — Volume 10Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
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What Will He Do with It? — Volume 10
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
At once Darrell comprehended his danger. His rapid glance took in all
the precautions by which the intruder proclaimed his lawless purpose--the
closed door, the bell rope cut off. There, between those four secret
walls, must pass the interview between himself and the desperado. He
was unarmed, but he was not daunted. It was but man to man. Losely had
for him his vast physical strength, his penury, despair, and vindictive
purpose. Darrell had in his favour the intellect which gives presence of
mind; the energy of nerve, which is no more to be seen in the sinew and
bone than the fluid which fells can be seen in the jars and the wires;
and that superb kind of pride, which, if terror be felt, makes its action
impossible, because a disgrace, and bravery a matter of course, simply
because it is honour.
As the bravo approached, by a calm and slight movement Darrell drew to
the other side of the table, placing that obstacle between himself and
Losely, and, extending his arm, said: "Hold, sir; I forbid you to advance
another step. You are here, no matter how, to re-urge your claims on me.
Be seated; I will listen to you."
Darrell's composure took Losely so by surprise that mechanically he
obeyed the command thus tranquilly laid upon him, and sunk into a chair--
facing Darrell with a sinister under-look from his sullen brow. "Ah!"
he said, "you will listen to me now; but my terms have risen."
Darrell, who had also seated himself, made no answer; but his face was
resolute and his eye watchful. The ruffian resumed, in a gruffer tone:
"My terms have risen, Mr. Darrell."
"Have they, sir? and why?"
"Why! Because no one can come to your aid here; because here you cannot
escape; because here you are in my power!"
"Rather, sir, I listen to you because here you are under my roof-tree;
and it is you who are in my power!"
"Yours! Look round; the doors are locked on you. Perhaps you think your
shouts, your cries might bring aid to you. Attempt it--raise your voice
--and I strangle you with these hands."
"If I do not raise my voice, it is, first, because I should be ashamed of
myself if I required aid against one man; and, secondly, because I would
not expose to my dependents a would-be assassin in him whom my lost child
called husband. Hush, sir, hush, or your own voice will alarm those who
sleep below. And now, what is it you ask? Be plain, sir, and be brief."
"Well, if you like to take matters coolly, I have no objection. These
are my terms. You have received large sums this day; those sums are in
your house, probably in that bureau; and your life is at my will."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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