Terence O'Rourke, Gentleman Adventurer
But that was not to be an easy matter, he plainly saw.
It was the last course of what had seemingly been a banquet. From the table the cloth had been removed. The majority of the conspirators were smoking. Glasses, brandy and champagne bottles ornamented the board, together with bottles of soda. What servants had attended the guests were withdrawn; at least, but two lingered in the room, and they at the farther end, behind Arabi Pasha's chair.
And that was all. The conspirators were nine to one, if O'Rourke should dare a hostile move. And should he succeed in making an escape from the apartment, he would be lost in the labyrinth that lay beyond.
Nevertheless, he evolved a scheme—desperate enough in all conscience, but offering some advantages, since escape was imperative, and he held no warrant for mam'selle's fidelity to himself.
"The fool that I was to have permitted meself to be drawn into this!" he swore inwardly.
The man at his right was absorbed in discussion; Viazma, on his left, was plying a busy champagne glass—making up for lost time. O'Rourke, for the moment, was observed of none.
It was an opportunity that might not again offer itself; it must be instantly improved, or let pass forever.
"God knows 'tis taking me life in me hands!" thought the Irishman. "But—"
He tipped back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the face of Arabi, who was leading the argument that centered about him, and carelessly crossed his arms; his hand slipped unobserved into the pocket of his dress coat, his fingers closing upon the butt of his revolver.
When he sat forward again—and, again, without attract-
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