W. B. Maxwell

“ Ridsdale was a good-looking man of thirty, tall and thin, of easy carriage and elegant manners. Boys, big and small, among whom he had passed the better part of his life, always looked up to him, and sometimes adored him, as a perfect type of school-trained manhood; and girls, too, were frequently subjugated by his charms. He was the sort of man who is not as a rule dreaded by other men as likely to prove a dangerous rival ”

“ Ridsdale, copying the General's slightest movement, was loading as the General loaded.
"Three! That's it. Three left. When you take the last, step back. I'll not raise my arm till you are back on the hearth. I swear it. Four!"
The music had ceased, but neither of them noticed. In a silence broken only by the sound of panting respirations, they loaded the fifth and sixth cartridges, and simultaneously sprang away from the table.
"Now!" The General had been the quicker. His arm was up. "Now answer me." The ferocity in the hissing words was terrible to hear. "Are you the man?" ”

“ Ridsdale, "for both of us to desert Lady Beckford."
"No," said Jack; "but I wish she'd come with us," and he turned to his stepmother. "Won't you change your mind?"
"I really don't feel up to it. Jack. I'm tired—I've had a headache since the day before yesterday."
"It might drive the headache away," said Jack, eagerly. "They say it's a tip-top piece."
His stepmother and his tutor both smiled as they looked at his bright and animated face. Lady Beckford's smile was simply affectionate; Mr. Ridsdale's was indulgent and patronising. ”

“ Lady Jane made no promise, but she proved very kind indeed to her new niece; endeavouring to find innocent amusement for pretty Cynthia, acting as her chaperon, watching over her, and growing fonder and fonder of her. She said that the young Lady Beckford was a model wife and a pattern stepmother. No one could have been more devoted to or wiser in her training of Master Jack. ”

“ Ridsdale, firmly, "would persuade me to suspect Lady Beckford of——"
"No, no, of course not. Please leave her out of it. I'm not thinking of her. I'm thinking only of myself—the attempted blow to me"
"You shouldn't for one moment believe——"
"Why not?" said the General, sadly. "One is vain, but there are limits to one's vanity. One hopes just at first, perhaps—but later one begins to think and to understand. You know, with Cynthia and me, it was a convenient marriage—although it wasn't a marriage of convenience." ”

“ General Beckford laughed gaily. "Did you hear that, Ridsdale? That's the sort of thing we old chaps like—even if we aren't vain enough to think we deserve it. Leave that where it is, Yates."
Yates was about to remove the hand-bag and take it to his master's room.
"Very good, Sir John."
"And you can go to Euston now—no hurry. Take a bus."
"Yes, Sir John."
"Smoking permitted?" And the General bowed again to his wife. "Light your cigarette, Ridsdale. No, I mustn't have any coffee on top of whisky and soda." ”

“ If an elderly widower with a little son of nine wants somebody to make a home and help to rear the child, he should invite some middle-aged female cousin to come to his assistance; but if he wants a charming, attractive girl to renounce the joys and hopes of youth in order to soothe and gladden his dull remnant of years—well, he oughtn't to want it, and really it is not quite nice when he does.
Lady Jane Armitage, an ancient aunt, put this thought into very plain words and forced Sir John to listen to them. A mistake—not even a fair bargain. What is Cynthia to get, on her side? ”

“ The butler paused, waiting for instructions.
"It can't be a visitor," said Cynthia Beckford. "Some tradesman's messenger!"
"It may be old Lady Jane."
"She wouldn't come so late as this."
"I don't know," said Ridsdale, eagerly. "She comes at all hours. With your headache she would bore you to death." He leaned forward in his chair and spoke very softly. "And, remember, my last evening! You—you promised that you would play to me."
Cynthia Beckford hesitated a moment, and then told the butler that she was not at home.
"Yes, my lady. Not at home to anybody?" ”

“ I am a soldier, and I think as soldiers used to think in the bygone days, when we were taught that we ought to harden our thoughts until they become as undeviating as instincts. If I'm called upon to guard and defend something placed in my charge, the thought of what to do is an instinct—to go out and meet the danger half-way. The safest method of defence is to deal promptly with the enemy that threatens. ”

“ Here are six cartridges—and I put them down, so—on your side of the table." He stepped back swiftly and cautiously. "See! Here are six cartridges for me—on my side of the table." And he sprang away, to his old post in front of the drawing-room door. "It is all fair play. I give as good a chance as I take myself. We stand at equal lengths from our ammunition. You follow it all, don't you? You catch my meaning?"
Mr. Ridsdale, staring at his empty revolver, nodded. ”

“ August had been spent at the Beckfords' country house in Devonshire, and the early weeks of September at their flat in Victoria Street. Lady Jane approved of everything that concerned these arrangements, except one thing. She approved of the public school, of the engaging of a holiday tutor, of all the care, devotion, and forethought with which the little man was being launched from the home circle; but she did not approve of the fact that Sir John had thrown the whole burden on Cynthia's slender shoulders, while he did his stupid salmon-fishing four hundred miles away in Scotland. ”

“ Ridsdale was looking only at his hostess, and he repeated the compliment about her dress.
"I admire you in that more than in any of the others," he said, softly, and rather sorrowfully.
"Because it is black, I suppose. It's quite old. But men always like black dresses. My husband does."
The dress was made of velvet, with some silver decoration across the front of the bodice, and it certainly appeared becoming. In it Cynthia Beckford looked very slim and young; fair-haired, but dark-eyed, naturally pale, but with a rapid flicker of colour ”

“ Run over your latest studies. Ridsdale and I will follow you directly."
Cynthia Beckford rose obediently and turned towards the drawing-room door. Her husband reached the door before Mr. Ridsdale could get to it, and he held it open for her, bowing low as she passed out.
"There!" He had switched on the light in the other room, and he stood in the doorway watching her. "Now delight our ears with your deft touch." Lady Beckford seated herself at the piano and began to play a plaintive and dreamy prelude by Bach.
"Beautiful! Your hand has not lost its cunning. ”

“ All noise and stamping."
"Yes," cried Jack, enthusiastically. "Murder and sudden death—just what I like."
"But not," said Mr. Ridsdale, "exactly indicated as a cure for a headache."
"Well, if I can't persuade you——" and Jack turned to Yates, the butler. "Has George changed his things?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then I'll be off." Jack pushed his plate away with a gesture that elegant Mr. Ridsdale could not approve of. It was too childish for a boy of fourteen—a little more polish required, in spite of so much polishing. "Good night," and Jack kissed Lady Beckford. "I shan't say good night to you, Mr. ”