Explore "The Gamblers" by William Le Queux on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I started to walk along the Boulevard towards the Opera. To that woman with the tow-coloured hair, the blue eyes and pink cheeks -- the woman who had replaced me in his affections -- Ernest had written that strange message in cipher, a message of warning it might be. I hated her. I really believe that if ever the spirit of murder has entered my heart, it was at that moment. I could have sprung upon her and killed her as she stepped into the carriage.
She had said no word to her coachman. He apparently knew where to drive. That cipher was perhaps an appointment which he had gone forward to keep, while she was now following. The thought convulsed me with anger. This man, Ernest Cameron, the man who had once held me in his arms and declared that he loved me, was, upon his own admission, an assassin.