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White, Fred M. (Frederick Merrick), 1859-

"The Crimson Blind"

Here,
stop that. Try that game on again and I'll call the dogs. And don't show
me any of your airs, please. I'm only a servant, but I am an honest man."
Henson stifled his anger as best he could. He was too miserable and
downcast to think of much besides himself at present. Once the
lodge-gates were open, Williams stood aside for him to pass. The
temptation was irresistible. And Henson's back was turned. With a kick of
concentrated contempt and fury Williams shot Henson into the road, where
he landed full on his face. His cup of humiliation was complete.


CHAPTER LVI
WHITE FANGS

Henson took his weary way in the direction of Brighton. He had but a few
pounds he could call his own, and not nearly enough to get away from the
country, and at any moment he might be arrested. He was afraid to go back
to his lodgings for fear of Merritt. That Merritt would kill him if he
got the chance he felt certain. And Merritt was one of those dogged,
patient types who can wait any time for the gratification of their
vengeance.
Merritt was pretty certain to be hanging about for his opportunity. On
the whole the best thing would be to walk straight to the Central
Brighton Station and take the first train in the morning to town.


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