Her Faithful Knight — page 344: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

340 And Last. Sholto’s fist was down in a minute, and the splintered glass flew about the room. “You cursed scoundrel!” burst from his lips. “Do you think I’ll drink with you? I’ve come here to give you the soundest thrashing you ever had. As soon as the news of my sister’s death was cabled to New York I came over. I was in court to-day and heard the evi- dence, and now, you sneaking cur, you expect Phyllis Knight’s brother to drink with you!” He drew from his pocket a small, stout dog-whip, and fingered it lovingly, without once removing his eyes from the face of Darcy. ‘The latter had grown pale, and, back- ing a little, contrived to put the supper-table between him- self and his brother-in-law, while his fingers stealthily sought the pocket of his coat. Before he had time to draw his revolver the lash of the dog whip was curling about his ears, stinging his cheeks, and half blinding him. Sholto’s blood was up, and he did not stay his hand. “That’s for deceiving and deserting my sister Phyllis; and that’s for breaking her heart and murdering her; and that’s for blackening her memory; and that’s for—ah!” A shot whizzed past his head and embedded itself in the opposite wall. Sholto caught Darcy’s hand before his fingers could touch the trigger again, and in dead silence the two men wrestled for possession of the revolver. This way and that, to right and left, they swayed. Sholto had the advantage in youth, brute force and supe- rior physical condition, but Darcy had the science of the prize-ring at his fingers’ ends, and was equally deft and daring. He was fighting for his life, and he knew it. There was a look of savage, murderous. hate in Sholto’s eyes which was a danger signal to his adversary. Darcy hated physical cruelty, but he told himself that he must either kill the brute or be killed by him, and just at that | comicbooks (©