You, sir,
what's wrong? _Are you to blame_?"
I faced him fairly now. "I am so accused by her," I answered slowly.
"What! _What_!" He stood as though frozen.
"I shall not lie about it. It is not necessary for me to accuse a girl
of falsehood. I only say, let us have this wedding, and have it soon. I
so agreed with Miss Grace last night."
The old man sprang at me like a maddened tiger now, his eyes glaring
about the room for a weapon. He saw it--a long knife with ivory handle
and inlaid blade, lying on the ledge where I myself had placed it when I
last was there. Doctor Bond sprang between him and the knife. I also
caught Colonel Sheraton and held him fast.
"Wait," I said. "Wait! Let us have it all understood plainly. Then let
us take it up in any way you Sheratons prefer."
"Stop, I say," cried the stern-faced doctor--as honest a man, I think,
as ever drew the breath of life. He hurled his sinewy form against
Colonel Sheraton again as I released him. "That boy is lying to us both,
I tell you. I say he's not to blame, and I know it. I _know_ it, I say.
I'm her physician. Listen, you, Sheraton--you shall not harm a man who
has lied like this, like a gentleman, to _save_ you and your girl.
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