As though it were yesterday, he
remembered that leave-taking and Francis's threatening words. Trent
had always felt that the man was his enemy - certainly the power to
do him incalculable harm, if not to altogether ruin him, was his now.
And he would not hesitate about it. Trent knew that, although
broadly speaking he was innocent of any desire to harm or desert
Monty, no power on earth would ever convince Francis of that.
Appearances were, and always must be, overwhelmingly against him.
Without interference from any one he had already formulated plans
for quietly putting Monty in his rightful position, and making over
to him his share in the Bekwando Syndicate. But to arrange this
without catastrophe would need skill and tact; interference from
any outside source would be fatal, and Francis meant to interfere
- nothing would stop him. Trent walked backwards and forwards with
knitted brows, glancing every now and then at the unconscious man.
Francis would certainly interfere if he were allowed to recover!
CHAPTER XXVII
A fortnight afterwards Trent rode into Attra, pale, gaunt, and
hollow-eyed. The whole history of those days would never be known
by another man! Upon Trent they had left their mark for ever.
Every hour of his time in this country he reckoned of great value
- yet he had devoted fourteen days to saving the life of John
Francis.
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