Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1908-07-12
II.
Rakehe1l Gaunt.

Crawshay completed his toilet with de-
liberate slowness and exactitude. The
knowledge that he was to die In few
weeks had not deprived him of his regard
for the smaller niceties of life. He was,
II anything, more particular than usual
about his personal appearance. His tie
was triumph. There was not a speck
Of dust on his clothes His boots shone
like mirrors.
He looked at himself in the long pier
glass and smiled grimly. Then he re-
turned to his sitting room.
AS he entered. tall. clean-shaven man
rose to his feet.
"Hello Gaunt.'
Evening, Crawshay Are you doing
anything tonight"
Nothing particular.
"weN. come and dine with us. Miss
Paradine asked me to bring one or two
men, It'll only be q sort of cold meal.
Carfax is coming
Thanks I should like to.s
Good We're not expected till eight.
and it's now seven. l came early in case
you might have gone out
"Have a sherry and bitters.'
ct think a brandy and soda is more in
my line.
Crawshay poured out half tumbler
of brandy and filled it up with soda
water. Gaunt drank third of 1t in a
single gulp and then lit cigarette with
trembling hands Crawshay smiled. and
pouring some brandy into a liqueur glass,
slipped 1t thoughtfully.
Sir Richard Gaunt's handsome face told
the story Of his life. The flesh was white
and unhealthy: the eyes dull and listless:
the mouth cruel and sensual. He was only
thirty-three years of age. but feeble and
tremulous as man of sixty. Even Craw-
shay. who was 80 near to death. was a
better specimen of man to look at.
Bacon has said that a man who Is
young in years may be old in hours. If he
have lost no time. Sir Richard Gaunt
had certainly lost no time In doing evil,
and he was old in many hours of vice.
From the age Of nineteen he had led the
worst kind of life that a young man can
find in great city: and even among a
set Of men who were excluded from every
a reputation for being the worst and
widest of them all. If only half the re-
ports of his escapades were true. he was
as evil minded a scoundrel as had ever
disgraced one of the historic names of
England.
Crawshay had been acquainted with
Gaunt for little over year. and though
he was Disguised with the brutal de-
pravity Of the man. he was morbidly in
terested in him, much in the same way as
d
ested In a murderer. Gaunt, moreover.
could be a very pleasant companion
when he chose to exert himself. Craw-
shay was pleased to see him on this par
ticular evening. For a reckless man. who
intended to spend an evening of wild
pleasure. there was no more fitting COM
pany than Sir Richard Gaunt.
The visitor did not speak till he had
finished the glass of brandy and soda.
Then some light of intelligence came into
his dull eyes. and his face, which at first
might have been carved out Of white
putty. showed some signs of animation.
Well have a tremendous spree tonight.
Crawshay,' he said, with chuckle.
"Cynthia's promised to give us that new
Moorish dance. And 1t is dance. / can
tell you. 1t was q bit too thick for the
F'olies Bergeres, so I'm told"
That's good" replied Crawshay. abb
stractedly.
mot quite the thing tonight, are you?"
asked Gaunt.
Not quite"