Armed, however, with the implement he had so fortunately obtained, he did not despair of success. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. ’ ‘Not until you release that dagger.
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