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Sabatini, Rafael, 1875-1950

"The Snare"


"My God, Carruthers ! What must he think of me?" he ejaculated.
"If you ask me, I think that he has suspected this from the very
beginning. Only that could account for the hostility of his attitude
towards you, for the persistence with which he has sought either to
convict or wring the truth from you."
Tremayne looked askance at the major. In such a tangle as this
it was impossible to keep the attention fixed upon any single thread.
"His mind must be disabused at once," he answered. "I must go to
him."
O'Moy had already vanished.
There were one or two others would have checked the adjutant's
departure, but he had heeded none. In the quadrangle he nodded
curtly to Colonel Grant, who would have detained him. But he
passed on and went to shut himself up in his study with his mental
anguish that was compounded of so many and so diverse emotions.
He needed above all things to be alone and to think, if thought were
possible to a mind so distraught as his own. There were now so many
things to be faced, considered, and dealt with. First and foremost
- and this was perhaps the product of inevitable reaction - was the
consideration of his own duplicity, his villainous betrayal of trust
undertaken deliberately, but with an aim very different from that
which would appear.


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