“C. Q.”; or, In the Wireless House
ingratiating scoundrels that simply hypnotize the women. He lived all over—had a shooting in Hungary and an apartment in Paris, and a villa at Monte Carlo. You know the type. A married man that did n’t live with his wife, and had n’t any children.”
Cloud ran his hands through his hair and his voice rose in higher key.
“You know what some country houses are. You ’ve read about ’em in the magazines and weeklies, I suppose. Well, ours was n’t very different from the ones you read about. But Roakby made a point of what he called being a gentleman—a gentleman!”
Cloud turned suddenly upon Micky and grabbed him by the shoulders and his words came grating forth in a hoarse series of cries. “What would have you have done—if this beast—this cur—O God!” He gave a dry sob. “Our sister—our little sister—fifteen—Man! Think of it!— The degradation of it! The foul swine! My brother Basil came running into the billiard-room, looking like a ghost. ‘Cosmo, come here,’ he said in a queer voice, and dragged me into the corner by the observatory. Then he told me. It made134
