A few hours before he had had a struggle with Soolsby, and now another struggle on the same theme was here.

Fate had dealt illy with him, who had ever been its spoiled child and favourite.

He had not learned yet the arts of defence against adversity.
"Luke Claridge is dead," he answered sharply.

"But you will tell--him, you will write to Egypt and tell your brother ?" she said, the conviction slowly coming to her that he would not.
"It is not my duty to displace myself, to furnish evidence against myself--" "You have destroyed the evidence," she intervened, a little scornfully.
"If there were no more than that--" He shrugged his shoulders impatiently.
"Do you know there is more ?" she asked searchingly.

"In whose interests are you speaking ?" he rejoined, with a sneer.