King of the Castle. Fenn George Manville

he seemed to see Chris recovering, and taking advantage of his absence to ruin all his hopes with Claude.

      “If these two, Claude and Denise, should meet and talk,” he thought.

      “If Gartram should learn everything. If Denise should not recover. Hah!”

      Glyddyr uttered a low expiration of the breath, as he recalled how closely Gellow’s interests were mixed up with his own.

      “And I have given him carte blanche,” he thought; “and he will say or do anything to throw them off the scent – or do anything,” he repeated, after a pause. “No, he dare do no harm; he is too fond of his own neck.”

      He had come to this point when he reached the side of his long, graceful-looking yacht, and as soon as he was aboard he gave his orders; the mooring ropes were cast off, and the sails hoisted. Then, fetching a glass from the cabin, Glyddyr carefully scanned the pier and shore, but could see nothing but little knots of people standing about discussing the adventure, while the largest knots hung about the door of the hotel.