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    The Crisis — Volume 08
    The Crisis — Volume 08
    The Crisis — Volume 08
    Ebook97 pages1 hour

    The Crisis — Volume 08

    By Winston Churchill

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 27, 2013
    The Crisis — Volume 08
    Author

    Winston Churchill

    Sir Winston Churchill was a British military man, statesman, and Nobel-prize winning author, and, by virtue of his service during both the First and Second World Wars, is considered to be one of the greatest wartime leaders of the twentieth century. Born to the aristocracy, Churchill pursued a career in the British Army, seeing action in British India and in the Second Boer War, and later drew upon his experiences in these historic conflicts in his work as a war correspondent and writer. After retiring from active duty, Churchill moved into politics and went on to hold a number of important positions in the British government. He rose to the role of First Lord of the Admiralty during the First World War and later to the role of prime minister, a position that he held twice, from 1940-1945 and from 1951-1955. A visionary statesman, Churchill was remarkable for his ability to perceive emerging threats to international peace, and predicted the rise of Nazi Germany, the Second World War, and the Iron Curtain. In his later years Churchill returned to writing, penning the six-volume Second World War series, A History of the English-Speaking Peoples, and many other historical and biographical works. Winston Churchill died in 1965 and, after one of the largest state funerals to that point in time, was interred in his family’s burial plot.

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      The Crisis — Volume 08 - Winston Churchill

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Crisis, Volume 8, by Winston Churchill

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

      Title: The Crisis, Volume 8

      Author: Winston Churchill

      Release Date: October 19, 2004 [EBook #5395]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRISIS, VOLUME 8 ***

      Produced by David Widger

      THE CRISIS

      By Winston Churchill

      Volume 8.

      CHAPTER XII

      THE LAST CARD

      Mr. Brinsmade and the Doctor were the first to leave the little room where Silas Whipple had lived and worked and died, Mr. Brinsmade bent upon one of those errands which claimed him at all times. He took Shadrach with him. Virginia sat on, a vague fear haunting her,—a fear for her father's safety. Where was Clarence? What had he seen? Was the place watched? These questions, at first intruding upon her sorrow, remained to torture her.

      Softly she stirred from the chair where she had sat before the piano, and opened the door of the outer office. A clock in a steeple near by was striking twelve. The Colonel did not raise his head. Only Stephen saw her go; she felt his eyes following her, and as she slipped out lifted hers to meet them for a brief instant through the opening of the door. Then it closed behind her.

      First of all she knew that the light in the outer office was burning dimly, and the discovery gave her a shock. Who had turned it down? Had Clarence? Was he here? Fearfully searching the room for him, her gaze was held by a figure in the recess of the window at the back of the room. A solid, bulky figure it was, and, though uncertainly outlined in the semi-darkness, she knew it. She took a step nearer, and a cry escaped her.

      The man was Eliphalet Hopper. He got down from the sill with a motion at once sheepish and stealthy. Her breath caught, and instinctively she gave back toward the door, as if to open it again.

      Hold on! he said. "I've got something I want to say to you, Miss

      Virginia."

      His tones seemed strangely natural. They were not brutal. But she shivered and paused, horrified at the thought of what she was about to do. Her father was in that room—and Stephen. She must keep them there, and get this man away. She must not show fright before him, and yet she could not trust her voice to speak just then. She must not let him know that she was afraid of him—this she kept repeating to herself. But how to act? Suddenly an idea flashed upon her.

      Virginia never knew how she gathered the courage to pass him, even swiftly, and turn up the gas. He started back, blinking as the jet flared. For a moment she stood beside it, with her head high; confronting him and striving to steady herself for speech.

      Why have you come here? she said. Judge Whipple—died—to-night.

      The dominating note in his answer was a whine, as if, in spite of himself, he were awed.

      I ain't here to see the Judge.

      She was pale, and quite motionless. And she faltered now. She felt her lips moving, but knew not whether the words had come.

      What do you mean?

      He gained confidence. The look in his little eyes was the filmy look of those of an animal feasting.

      I came here to see you, he said, —you. She was staring at him now, in horror. And if you don't give me what I want, I cal'late to see some one else—in there, said Mr. Hopper.

      He smiled, for she was swaying, her lids half closed. By a supreme effort she conquered her terror and looked at him. The look was in his eyes still, intensified now.

      "How dare you speak to me after what has happened! she said. If Colonel

      Carvel were here, he would—kill you."

      He flinched at the name and the word, involuntarily. He wiped his forehead, hot at the very thought.

      I want to know! he exclaimed, in faint-hearted irony. Then, remembering his advantage, he stepped close to her.

      He is here, he said, intense now. He is here, in that there room. He seized her wrists. Virginia struggled, and yet she refrained from crying out. He never leaves this city without I choose. I can have him hung if I choose, he whispered, next to her.

      Oh! she cried; oh, if you choose!

      Still his body crept closer, and his face closer. And her strength was going.

      There's but one price to pay, he said hoarsely, there's but one price to pay, and that's you—you. I cal'late you'll marry me now.

      Delirious at the touch of her, he did not hear the door open. Her senses were strained for that very sound. She heard it close again, and a footstep across the room. She knew the step—she knew the voice, and her heart leaped at the sound of it in anger. An arm in a blue sleeve came between them, and Eliphalet Hopper staggered and fell across the books on the table, his hand to his face. Above him towered Stephen Brice. Towered was the impression that came to Virginia then, and so she thought of the scene ever afterward. Small bits, like points of tempered steel, glittered in Stephen's eyes, and his hands following up the mastery he had given them clutched Mr. Hopper's shoulders. Twice Stephen shook him so that his head beat upon the table.

      You—you beast! he cried, but he kept his voice low. And then, as if he expected Hopper

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