The prayer passing from his lips, in connection with the horrid scheme in his thoughts, gave an expression to his countenance truly diabolical.
Even his wife, used to see the “ugly” in his face, could not help noticing it, as he went back into the house—where she had been waiting for him to go out for a walk.
It was a walk to the Haymarket, to enjoy the luxuries of a set supper in the Café d’Europe, where the “other count,” with the Honourable Geraldine, and one or two friends of similar social standing, had made appointment to meet them.
It was not the last promenade Swinton intended to take with his beloved Fan. Before reaching the Haymarket, he had planned another for that same night, if it should prove to be a dark one.
Chapter Seventy Nine.
A Petit Souper.
The supper was provided by “Kate the coper,” who had lately been “in luck”; having netted handsomely on one of her steeds, sold to a young “spoon” she had recently picked up, and who was one of the party.
The “coped” individual was no other than our old friend Frank Scudamore, who, by the absence of his cousin abroad, and her benign influence over him, had of late taken to courses of dissipation.