CHAPTER LIV. — THE WORM TURNS.
Potts departed from the Hall in deep dejection. The tremendous power of his enemy had been shown all along; and now that this enemy turned out to be Louis Brandon, he felt as though some supernatural being had taken up arms against him. Against that being a struggle seemed as hopeless as it would be against Fate. It was with some such feeling as this that he left Brandon Hall forever.
All of his grand projects had broken down, suddenly and utterly. He had not a ray of hope left of ever regaining the position which he had but recently occupied. He was thrust back to the obscurity from which he had emerged.
One thing troubled him. Would the power of his remorseless enemy be now stayed—would his vengeance end here? He could scarce hope for this. He judged that enemy by himself, and he knew that he would not stop in the search after vengeance, that nothing short of the fullest and direst ruin—nothing, in fact, short of death itself would satisfy him.
John was with him, and Vijal, who alone out of all the servants had followed his fortunes. These three walked down and passed through the gates together, and emerged into the outer world in silence. But when they had left the gates the silence ended.
“Well, dad!” said John, “what are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you any money?”