This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1910 edition. Excerpt: ... CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Bolter's Last Bet EFT to himself in his own rooms, while Ernst Coicu was seeing the prince safely-- back down the service stair to where Professor Jocrisse was awaiting in some not unnatural impatience that headstrong young man's return, Baxendale once more fell an easy prey to the ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1910 edition. Excerpt: ... CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Bolter's Last Bet EFT to himself in his own rooms, while Ernst Coicu was seeing the prince safely-- back down the service stair to where Professor Jocrisse was awaiting in some not unnatural impatience that headstrong young man's return, Baxendale once more fell an easy prey to the most profound depression. He felt as though the events of this eventful day had indeed made an old man of him. Ernst, reappearing, found him stretched full length in a lounge-chair, chin on chest, eyes fixed on vacancy. He surrendered himself with a sigh to the ministrations of that artist in make-up, and it was not long before Ernst had completely restored to him his rightful appearance. He finished dressing, and sat down again, but Ernst still lingered, putting the room in order, and, for the sake of peace and quietness, he presently moved into the parlor beyond. He helped himself to a high-ball, lighted a long cigar with fingers that shook in spite of himself, and settled himself in front of the fire, there to consider more at his ease the very unenviable plight in which fate had finally left him stranded. But he could not now dismiss from his mind the remembrance of his interview with the princess this evening, before Ernst's tragic announcement had so unnerved him. The dying spark of hope in his heart almost flickered into a flame again, as he recalled the tacit confession into which he had, however unfairly, forced her. For he understood now that she had known then who he really was. And, withal, she had not denied his direct impeachment! Could it possibly be that she cared? But, even if she did care, how would that help matters now, since he was practically a pauper? The little flame that had warmed his hungry heart died down to a...
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