Explore "The Scales of Justice" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Sir Devereux Drummond dragged himself slowly downstairs to the breakfast-room, looking like the ghost of himself. The stern old soldier no longer held his head high, he had few words for Watson, who came in with the breakfast. A brilliant sunshine was flooding the lawn and garden outside; the keen wind of the night before had dropped.
"Miss Sybil is not down yet, Sir Devereux," the old butler said. "She will not be very long. Will you take some eggs and ham or a cutlet, sir?"