Читать книгу On the Brink of a Chasm: A record of plot and passion онлайн

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Barbara looked up into his face, and there was an expression in hers which Tarbot saw and interpreted aright. That expression was the last straw. It turned the disappointed man’s blood into gall. He clenched both his hands tightly. They were the hands of a surgeon—beautifully formed, firm, and cool as steel. He clenched them so hard now that the nails penetrated the skin. His face felt cold; a moment later it was bathed in perspiration.

Fury ungovernable raged in his heart. He trembled all over. For a moment he could scarcely see clearly; then, rubbing one of his hands across his eyes, he pulled himself together with a great effort. Once more he bent forward and glanced into the drawing-room. The crowds were still there, the crush was at its height, but the pair he sought had vanished.

“So Dick Pelham is her choice,” muttered Tarbot. “I know where I shall find them; they are sure to be in one of the conservatories. If I remember aright, this balcony runs right round to the conservatories; I don’t mind spying on them. Barbara is turning me into a devil, and I shall act as one. Pelham looked as if he meant to say something to-night; she will reply. I must know all about it; I must be in the thick of this matter.”