Explore "Lady Kilpatrick" by Robert W. Buchanan on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
In a state of mind bordering as closely on frenzy as was possible in so very cold and calculating a nature, Conseltine made his way to the neighbouring village of Cor-dale, where, in a disreputable inn bearing the pretentious title ‘Hotel,' his confederate Feagus was waiting the issue of events. He found the worthy seated in a parlour leading off the main chamber, or taproom, playing cards with the landlord, a truculent-looking ruffian in shirt-sleeves.
As Conseltine entered, Feagus looked up with a grin, but, seeing at a glance by the expression of Conseltine's face that something unusual had occurred, he threw down his cards and rose to his feet.