“That young man was giving a luncheon party to a dozen friends at the Café de Paris to-day. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. She liked his face; it had on it the suggestion of gentleness, of fineness. ‘Be quiet, man,’ snapped Hilary, watching the Frenchman go by with the lad after him. It's as well to be on the safe side. He had put himself before the threshold of damnation; for Ruth was now a vestal in the temple. Sheppard. The assassination, as you call it, was, obviously, the vengeance of a kinsman of the injured lady, who no doubt was of good family, upon her seducer. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. We shall have him on his return.
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