I would kill him. And you--_you_--"
He stepped back a pace, as if to put himself out of striking distance of
the beast who was staring at him in amazement.
"What you have said about her should condemn you to death. And I would
kill you here, in this room, if it wasn't necessary for you to take my
message back to Graham. Tell him that Mary Standish--_not_ Mary
Graham--is as pure and clean and as sweet as the day she was born. Tell
him that she belongs to _me_. I love her. She is mine--do you
understand? And all the money in the world couldn't buy one hair from
her head. I'm going to take her back to the States. She is going to get
a square deal, and the world is going to know her story. She has
nothing to conceal. Absolutely nothing. Tell that to John Graham
for me."
He advanced upon Rossland, who had risen from his chair; his hands were
clenched, his face a mask of iron.
"Get out! Go before I flay you within an inch of your rotten life!"
The energy which every fiber in him yearned to expend upon Rossland sent
the table crashing back in an overturned wreck against the wall.
"Go--before I kill you!"
He was advancing, even as the words of warning came from his lips, and
the man before him, an awe-stricken mass of flesh that had forgotten
power and courage in the face of a deadly and unexpected menace, backed
quickly to the door and escaped.
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