monarch

Mrs. Sewell can be called a considerate hostess. Whenever the wine in the glasses of the four people has run out, Mrs. Sewell stands up again and pours another glass of wine for everyone, so the bottle The height of the wine in the wine dropped a lot soon.However, Cecil noticed that under her calm appearance, there was a hint of tension and excitement from time to time, as if wisps of blue smoke occasionally emerged from the crevices of the extinct volcano, heralding the coming of some kind of disaster.

"You said that you used to do business in England before, and Mrs. Sewell is an Englishman, so you met our lovely lady boss in England?" Cecil drank the wine in his glass again clean, he asked, looking up when Mrs Sewell came up to pour him a drink.

"Ah, yes." Mr. Sewell took a sip of his wine and pouted his mouth contentedly. His tongue flicked lightly in his mouth and made a slight sound, which sounded very satisfied.

"How did you know Madam?" Cecil watched Mrs. Sewell continue to fill his glass, and her hands seemed to tremble slightly when she heard this question.

"It's very simple. My wife's father and I are old acquaintances." Mr. Sewell moved a little in his chair.

"Oh?" Cecil glanced at the other party in surprise. According to the most conservative estimate, this husband is more than ten years older than his wife. Why would a father betroth his daughter to such a woman? What about a man as a wife?

"Mr. Sewell wants to say that I was given to him by my father to pay off the debt." Mrs. Sewell put the large glass bottle of wine on the table and said nonchalantly.She looked at her husband with burning eyes, his face half-illuminated by the light from the chandelier with ten candles on the fireplace, "My father is a gambler, and my husband is his One of my creditors, he settled a debt of fifty pounds through a marriage contract." She picked up the glass in front of her and drank the wine in it. "This is a huge sum of money. It can buy a horse Nice horses, you know horses, ser?" She laughed nervously.

"I'm sorry, ma'am." Cecil said hastily, and he glanced at the husband out of the corner of his eye, whose two mustaches were sticking up like the tusks of a wild boar.

"No, it's nothing, my lord." Mrs. Sewell remained motionless, smiling, "God has his own way, and I must say, I can't complain about it." She held up her right hand, held out her index finger, Turning that finger around, "I'm living a very happy life now, don't I, dear husband?" She smiled and said to Mr. Sewell who was sitting opposite.

Mr. Sewell smiled noncommittally.

"My husband got consumption shortly after we got married, the winter before we got married," she continued, pouring herself a glass of wine, "that gloomy weather in England killed him. , so we also had to move back to France and settle in this small town with clean air, which the doctor said was good for him."

"Have you never returned to England? Haven't you contacted your family?" Cecil then asked.

"No." Mrs. Sewell shook her head. "I think you can understand that it's better not to contact such family members."

"I totally understand." Cecil raised his glass to her and took another sip of wine.He noticed Mrs. Sewell's brow furrowed slightly, a fleeting cloud flitted across her brow, and then a rather subtle smile appeared on her lips.The combination of these three expressions, like the wonderful reaction between the paints on the palette, gave the whole face a strange color.

The maid came in again, this time with a tray of almond honey cake and Spanish sherry for dessert.

Mr. Sewell watched his wife pour everyone a glass of sherry, and held out her hand for the two guests to join him in a toast.

Cecil picked up his wine glass, still paying attention to Mrs. Sewell's movements from the corner of his eye.The lady seemed to think that she was no longer being noticed, and with a strangely contorted expression on her face, she was biting hard at a silk handkerchief she had just clutched tightly in her hand.

When the guests put down their glasses, the lady's face returned to a pleasant expression, as if the previous cloud was only a summer storm, which came suddenly and quickly disappeared, leaving only a few bright red spots on the handkerchief. Proof that the storm had come, was left by the bleeding lip she had bitten.

The church bell outside struck ten, and a moment later the bell on the mantelpiece chimed too.

Mr. Sewell picked up a bun, peeled off a bit of the crust with his fingers, and chewed it lightly in his mouth.He leaned on the back of the seat, raised his eyelids, and asked in a solemn tone: "I have never heard of the names of the two lords in London. I wonder where the two work?"

Cecil shrugged his shoulders slowly, and said in a natural and clear voice: "I manage my own property on the Wiltshire manor, and my family's manor has been there since the thirteenth century; And my friend Lord Cornwallis is in the army."

"Ah, is Mr. Baron Cornwallis a British officer?" Mr. Sewell asked, turning to Ponsonby, who had been silent all this time, in a friendly tone.

"His Majesty's [-]st Dragoons." Ponsonby responded with his usual indifference.

"Dragoons?" Mr. Sewell sized up the expressionless burly man. "I thought a good man like you would want to join King Edward's Guards."

"I'm very satisfied with my team." Ponsonby glanced at him coldly.

"Of course, of course." Mr. Sewell waved his hands in embarrassment, "I didn't mean your team to be embarrassed, I just think you look more like an officer of the Imperial Guard..."

"You sound very familiar with England's army. Whether it is a silk merchant or an innkeeper, it seems a bit unusual." Ponsonby looked straight at the innkeeper, and his eyes made him I shivered involuntarily.

"It's just a little bit of news... You know that a businessman who travels around the world will always hear some news in the post or in the hotel." Mr. Sewell smiled mischievously, turned to his wife, Signal her to smooth things over.

However, to Mr. Sewell's surprise, Mrs. Sewell seemed to have not noticed his signal at all, and drank another glass of sherry on her own, and picked up the bottle to add another glass to herself.Her eyes were bright with alcohol, and her face was as pale pink as fresh trout flesh.

"It looks like Madam is drunk." The ignored husband quickly changed the subject when he saw his wife's appearance.

Suddenly and without warning, Mr. Sewell coughed, and it sounded as though the tubes in his lungs were about to pop out of his throat.Mr. Sewell slumped against the back of his seat, flushed, his sallow brow beaded with sweat, and he covered his mouth with a napkin and made an exaggerated air of difficulty breathing.

"Oh, sir, what's the matter with you?" Cecil threw the napkin on the table, stood up, and looked at Mr. Sewell in surprise.

As if she had just noticed her husband, Mrs. Sewell drank the wine in the glass calmly, put the glass on the table, lifted her skirt, and stood up, "My husband's lung disease must be He's about to commit another crime, let me help him to the small living room downstairs to rest for a while."

"In that case, we won't bother you two anymore." Cecil pushed back his chair, took half a step back, and bowed to Mr. and Mrs. Sewell.

Mrs. Sewell also curtseyed. She walked behind her husband and patted his back with her hand. "I hope this episode has not disappointed the two adults."

"On the contrary, your dinner was a great success and we felt right at home."

"Then, I wish your lords good night." Mrs. Sewell nodded to them.

The two English guests walked out of the restaurant one after the other, and Ponsonby followed Cecil. Mr Sewell struggling in his wife's arms.

Mr. Sewell continued to cough until the sound of their footsteps disappeared in the stairwell. He finally stopped coughing and pushed his wife away.

"What's going on with you tonight?" He stared at his wife fiercely, his upturned mustache trembling like a flagpole shaking in a storm.

Mrs. Sewell walked back to her seat, poured herself another glass of wine, and drank it down suddenly, "It seems that your illness has recovered." She said in a mocking tone.

"I'm asking you something." There was a hint of threat in the husband's tone, "Are you drunk tonight?"

"You go to hell." Mrs. Seville repeated the action just now, poured a glass of wine again, picked up the glass, and brought it to her mouth, but unexpectedly, she did not drink the glass of wine, but put the glass All the liquid in the bottle was splashed on Mr. Sewell's face.

The husband stared at his wife in disbelief, his sallow face suddenly flushed, he pushed the chair back suddenly, and the chair fell to the ground on its back.He grabbed his wife's hand with one hand and slapped her with the other.Mrs. Sewell fell to the floor, falling to pieces along with a good deal of the china and glass on the table.

"Ma'am?" The maid's uneasy voice came from outside the door, obviously hearing the movement of physics.

"Let us be quiet for a moment!" cried Mr. Sewell to the door, from which the voices were immediately silenced.

He turned his head and looked down at his wife, who was lying on the ground sobbing softly.

"You are really mad to-night," he said in a dark tone. "Have you forgotten where you stand?"

"With you nagging me to remind me every day, how could I forget?" Mrs. Sewell raised her head and glared at the other party, wiping the blood flowing down the corner of her mouth with her hand.

"I have shown you the instructions of your lord this afternoon. You should know that your lord doesn't like others disobeying his orders." He looked at the clock on the fireplace. You will take care of the short knight, and I will take care of the tall baron, do you understand?"

"Do what you want to do, I don't care." Mrs. Sewell stood up and straightened her clothes. "But I won't have anything to do with this disgusting thing." She said Just walk towards the door.

"Are you disobeying your lord's orders?" Mr. Sewell leaped forward, with an agility that belied his sickly appearance, and seized Mrs. Sewell's arm. "You know What consequences will you face?"

Mrs. Sewell sneered, and slapped her across the face with such force that the husband had to let go and grab the table, or he would fall on his back.

"I don't care about your lord, let him go to hell with you. If he wants to do anything to me, then let him do whatever he wants. To him, a person like me is no different from an ant. If he wants to run me over with his little finger, so be it." She took a step forward and looked haughtily at her terrified husband, "I've had enough of this life, you understand? I Enough is enough! To hell with you and your lord!"

She slammed the handkerchief in her hand on the other person's face, left the restaurant angrily, and closed the door heavily.

Mr. Sewell's face turned liver-colored, and he stood there, shaking violently as if he had malaria.After about half a minute, he seemed to have finally calmed down. He walked to the fireplace, picked up a candle on the mantelpiece, and lit it on a burning candle on the nearby candlestick.

He took the candle and walked out of the dining room. The maid was trembling in the corner of the corridor, obviously frightened by the quarrel between the master and his wife.

"Madam accidentally broke some plates and cups just now." His voice was quite artificial because he tried his best to suppress his emotions, "Please go and clean it up."

"Yes, sir." The maid didn't even dare to lift her head, she bypassed Mr. Sewell as if fleeing for her life, and ran into the dining room to clean up.

Mr. Sewell watched the maid enter the dining room, and then walked forward, through the corridor, into the lobby of the hotel. He looked out from the gate, and there was no one left in the lively square in the evening, only A few pigeons paced leisurely by the fountain, looking for the bread crumbs that fell on the ground.

He closed the hotel door, inserted the key hanging around his neck into the keyhole, and locked the door behind him.

Mr. Sewell went upstairs along the stairs, and the light of the candle cast a long shadow behind him. If anyone saw his back at this time, he would have noticed the twisted and hideous movements of the dancing shadow. .

He came to the door of his own room, unscrewed the door, opened the door a small crack, slipped in like a snake, and closed the door carefully.

There is a large cabinet directly opposite the door, the style looks quite simple.Mr. Sewell went to the cabinet, opened the top drawer, and took out a pistol and a box of pellets. He stared at the pistol for a moment, put it back in the drawer, and took out a new one. A gleaming dagger.

He blew out the candle, took the dagger, turned and walked out of the room.

There were a few small oil lamps lit in the corridor. With the dim light, he walked through the corridor to the door of the two English guests, picked up the key hanging around his neck again, and inserted it into the lock. Eye.

The knob of the lock clicked softly, and the door swung slightly on its hinges.

Mr. Sewell slipped into the room like a snake, and the bright moonlight from outside the window shone into the room, reflecting his ugly face in the mirror opposite the door.The pale light cast by the moonlight through the floor-to-ceiling windows, like the gaze of a ghost, quietly watched the movement in the room.

Mr. Sewell looked at the two doors leading to the two bedrooms on the left and right respectively. After hesitating for a moment, he walked towards the door on the right.

The bedroom door was unlocked. Mr. Sewell turned the handle slightly, and the door flicked open.

On the mantelpiece in the bedroom, a small oil lamp gave off a dim glow, and the wick, which had begun to blacken, made a slight crackling sound as the last few drops of oil were about to burn out.The dim and bleak light enveloped the room like a gray-white curtain, dyeing everything in the room with this gloomy color.

He quietly walked to the bed. The blanket on the bed was rolled up, and the people inside were sleeping soundly.

Mr. Sewell's facial muscles twitched slightly due to tension. He lifted the bed curtain with his left hand, and then propped that hand on the head of the bed, holding the dagger tightly in his right hand.

He raised the dagger and stabbed at the man lying on the bed, all the way to the hilt.

However, to his surprise, the person on the bed didn't move at all, and didn't even utter a moan. He pulled out the dagger in astonishment, and with the dim light, he saw that there was no trace of blood on the dagger.

Mr. Sewell gave a soft cry of surprise, took half a step forward, and summoned up the courage to throw back the blanket.

Beneath the blanket were several sofa cushions stacked together, one of which had been stabbed with feathers wafting from it.

Mr. Sewell stepped back in horror, grasping the shroud-like curtain with his left hand to balance himself.

The oil lamp went out just at this moment, and the whole room was shrouded in terrifying darkness.

The clock on the mantelpiece struck eleven, and the sound hung in the dark room like a mocking sound.

Mr. Sewell felt the hair on his head stand on end, and he tiptoed back, but he felt a cold touch on his neck.

"Throw the knife in your hand on the ground." There was a voice in his ear that made him break out in cold sweat, his right hand softened, and the dagger fell on the carpeted floor, making a dull impact.

Mr. Sewell finally realized that it was a sword hanging around his neck.He stretched out a hand forward, as if wanting to grab something life-saving, but a sharp pain came from the back of his head, followed by dizziness like dizziness, which completely made him lose consciousness.

--------------------

Locusts are often used in European and American cultures to refer to people who are destructive and want to put all their opponents to death before giving up.