Prev | Current Page 113 | Next

Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"Uncle Bernac A Memory of the Empire"

He has more reason to avoid me than I him.
But they are calling for you, Cousin Louis. Good-bye, and God be with
you!'

CHAPTER IX

THE CAMP OF BOULOGNE
My uncle was still standing at the castle gateway, the very picture of a
usurper, with our own old coat-of-arms of the bend argent and the three
blue martlets engraved upon the stones at either side of him. He gave
me no sign of greeting as I mounted the large grey horse which was
awaiting me, but he looked thoughtfully at me from under his down-drawn
brows, and his jaw muscles still throbbed with that stealthy rhythmical
movement. I read a cold and settled malice in his set yellow face and
his stern eyes. For my own part I sprang readily enough into the
saddle, for the man's presence had, from the first, been loathsome to
me, and I was right glad to be able to turn my back upon him. And so,
with a stern quick order from the lieutenant and a jingle and clatter
from the troopers, we were off upon our journey. As I glanced back at
the black keep of Grosbois, and at the sinister figure who stood looking
after us from beside the gateway, I saw from over his head a white
handkerchief gleam for an instant in a last greeting from one of the
gloomy meurtriere windows, and again a chill ran through me as I thought
of the fearless girl and of the hands in which we were leaving her.


Pages:
101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125