The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Yellow Crayon, by E. Phillips Oppenheim
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The Yellow Crayon
Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim
Posting Date: November 25, 2008 [EBook #1849]
Release Date: August, 1999
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YELLOW CRAYON ***
Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer
THE YELLOW CRAYON
By E. Phillips Oppenheim
CHAPTER I
It was late summer-time, and the perfume of flowers stole into the
darkened room through the half-opened window. The sunlight forced its
way through a chink in the blind, and stretched across the floor in
strange zigzag fashion. From without came the pleasant murmur of bees
and many lazier insects floating over the gorgeous flower beds, resting
for a while on the clematis which had made the piazza a blaze of purple
splendour. And inside, in a high-backed chair, there sat a man, his arms
folded, his eyes fixed steadily upon vacancy. As he sat then, so had he
sat for a whole day and a whole night. The faint sweet chorus of glad
living things, which alone broke the deep silence of the house, seemed
neither to disturb nor interest him. He sat there like a man turned to
stone, his forehead riven by one deep line, his straight firm mouth set
close and hard. His servant, the only living being who had approached
him, had set food by his side, which now and then he had mechanically
taken. Changeless as a sphinx, he had sat there in darkness and in
light, whilst sunlight had changed to moonlight, and the songs of the
birds had given place to the low murmuring of frogs from a lake below
the lawns.
At last it seemed that his unnatural fit had passed away. He stretched
out his hand and struck a silver gong which had been left within his
reach. Almost immediately a man, pale-faced, with full dark eyes and
olive complexion, dressed in the sombre garb of an indoor servant, stood
at his elbow.
"Duson."
"Your Grace!"
"Bring wine--Burgundy."
It was before him, served with almost incredible despatch--a small
cobwebbed bottle and a glass of quaint shape, on which were beautifully
emblazoned a coronet and fleur-de-lis. He
|