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Weyman, Stanley John, 1855-1928

"Under the Red Robe"

'The
Cure of Gabas blessed the place, and set them up. But next
morning they were as you see them now. Come on, Monsieur; come
on!' he continued, plucking at my arm. 'It is not safe here
after sunset. Pray God, Satan be not at home!'
He had completely forgotten in his panic that he had anything to
fear from me. His gun dropped loosely across his saddle, his leg
rubbed mine. I saw this, and I changed my plan of action. As
our horses reached the stones I stooped, as if to encourage mine,
and, with a sudden clutch, snatched the gun bodily from his hand,
at the same time that I backed my horse with all my strength. It
was done in a moment! A second and I had him at the end of the
gun, and my finger was on the trigger. Never was victory more
easily gained.
He looked at me between rage and terror, his jaw fallen.
'Are you mad?' he cried, his teeth chattering as he spoke. Even
in this strait his eyes left me and wandered round in alarm.
'No, sane!' I retorted fiercely. 'But I do not like this place
any better than you do.' Which was true enough, if not quite
true.


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