Then as I sprang, with no eyes but for this man, a masterful hand
gripped me, a commanding voice spoke in my ear.
"Back--stand back, boy!"
Turning to free myself, I beheld the Earl of Wyvelstoke, but now in
his look and bearing was that which halted me in awed amaze.
"Devereux!" said he, not loudly but in voice so terrible that the man
started and, loosing Diana, sprang back to glare at the speaker,
heedless of Diana's blazing fury and threatening knife. "Stop, Diana!"
commanded the Earl. "Come here and leave this unhanged ruffian to
me--come, I say!" Humbly she obeyed, shrinking a little beneath his
lordship's eyes, to creep into the clasp of my arm.
And so they faced each other, the stranger pale and coldly
self-possessed, the Earl, his slender figure erect, one hand in the
bosom of his shabby coat, his countenance placid, though frowning a
little, but in his eyes a glare to daunt the boldest.
"Devereux!" he repeated in the same leisured, even tone.
"Murderer--ravisher, I followed you, and by God you have betrayed
yourself!"
"Ancient dotard!" smiled the other. "You babble like the poor,
doddering imbecile you appear--my name is Haredale!"
"Liar!" said the Earl, softly. "I never forget faces, good or evil,
hence I know you for the loathsome vermin, the obscene and unnameable
thing you are!"
The stranger's pale face grew dreadfully suffused, his lips curled
from gnashing teeth and, snatching up the heavy riding-whip that lay
at his feet, he strode towards his lordship.
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