Читать книгу A Son of Ishmael. A Novel онлайн

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Nancy turned to a table which stood near. She poured something from a bottle into a medicine glass and brought it to her father. She held the glass to his lips; he drained the contents to the dregs.

“That is right,” he panted, “that is good stuff, it warms the heart. I used to give medicine myself like that long ago; there is chloroform in it, it is very comforting. Come to my side, Nancy, let me hold your hand. Remember I am a dying man and the requests of the dying ought to be granted. You are to make me a promise. Your brother, Anthony, was murdered, you are to find the murderer, and to avenge his death; you are to take up my life work, child. If you don’t I shall curse you.”

“Where you failed, how am I to succeed?” she answered. “I won’t make that cruel promise.”

“If you don’t I’ll curse you,” replied the dying man, his glittering eyes looking full into hers. She shuddered and covered her face with her trembling hands.

“I think nothing at all of your squeamish womanly fears,” he said, with an awful sort of sneer. “Sit down by me—I have everything planned out—listen.”