William MacLeod Raine

“ You shall taste the cup you brewed for others!" screamed Oaksdale, lashed to a fury by the seeming indifference of the other.
"Ah! And you have elected yourself an avenging angel—a representative of heaven," retorted Blount smilingly. "Dawson, I suppose, stands for his Satanic Majesty. May I ask whose delegate you are, Sir Roger? The chief places seem taken."
"Sneer on, Eustace Blount," replied Chisholm sternly. "You will die as you have lived, with a sneer on your lips. Yet, I warn you, if you ever pray, now is the time. In half an hour it will be too late." ”

“ Chisholm was no match for his opponent at sword-play. He had against him the coolest head and the surest hand in England. The result was never in doubt. In three minutes Sir Roger lay on the ground with the blood welling out of a wound in his side.
"He will not die," said Blount indifferently, as he stood panting over him. "I struck low on purpose; but I call you all to witness that this fight was none of my seeking. Out of doubt I had to wound to keep Dawson's fond hopes from being realized."
Oaksdale looked sullenly at him, his face distorted with rage. ”

“ We do not hang our friends," said the man hardily, turning loose of Blount's arm. A chorus of approval greeted the man's remark. Blount knew he could reach his horse, but he made no move.
"I fear—I much fear that you will spoil good Dawson's pious plans," he said coolly, laughing at the latter's sudden discomfiture.
"No, by Saint Crispian!" cried Oaksdale, running at him, sword in hand, mad with the thought that his victim was about to escape him. Blount faced him scornfully, without giving an inch. Sir Roger Chisholm flung himself between them. ”

“ Another man might have objected. Blount merely shrugged his shoulders. He had been weary for an adventure. Here was one ready made to his hand. He produced a kerchief, and the outlaw bound it over his eyes. As they passed through the woods, Blount could tell from the rustling in the bushes that they were being watched. It did not alarm him in the least. He had but to disclose his name and they would let him go. There were no outlaws in England who would interfere with Eustace Blount. Their trades were too near alike. ”

“ He tried to reform, but none would give him credit for it, and in self-defense he went back to his evil courses. The man Dawson bided his time—and it seems that it has come to-day. For one of my few good deeds I give my life. The moral is: Be consistent in evil. Note, Babe, here is Dawson with never a good deed to his credit in a long life. Yet he prospers. Beware of doing good. That is the story in short."
"You have not ended it," said Dawson with an evil smile.
"Oh, you are going to do that," replied Blount lightly. "It will be my one good deed that may take me to paradise." ”

“ He was not yet twenty-four, but already several homes had cause to curse his fatal beauty which wooed women to their undoing, and his never-failing skill with the cards and the sword, which made strong men as children in his hands. ”

“ Then, as his sword was handed him: "Is it to be a fight?"
Sir Roger was flinging his doublet off, and did not answer.
"I am a more experienced swordsman than you," continued Blount warningly.
"I know you are, but the men whom you have murdered are fighting against you to-day. God will not let you win."
Blount frowned. He did not want to fight at all, far less fight a man whom he knew he could kill. A happy solution of the difficulty occurred to him.
"Without question I am a more skilful swordsman. I will fight you and Dawson together. Twill be more fair. ”

“ He taxed him with the evil work he had done, but the other only laughed at him. When the boy in rage struck him he led him out of the gambling house into the sunlight and killed him. Men call it a duel, but it was murder—neither more nor less. ”