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"It sounds as though the Herald wanted you for some expedition; it sounds as if everybody knew about the expedition, except you. Nobody ever hears any news at Morteyn," said Molly Hesketh, dejectedly. "Are you going, Jack?" "Going? Where?" "Does your telegram throw any light on Jack's, Ricky?" asked Sir Thorald. But Rickerl von Elster turned away without answering.
A train was just gliding out of the station, bound eastward, and from every window red caps projected and sunburned, boyish faces expanded into grins as they saw Lady Hesketh and her charges. "Vive l'Angleterre!" they cried. "Vive Madame la Reine! Vive Johnbull et son rosbif!" the latter observation aimed at Sir Thorald.
There is no doubt but that for months past they have been making maps of the whole region in most minute detail; they have evidently been expecting this war for a long time. Incidentally, now that war is declared, they have opened hostilities on their own account." "You did for some of them?" asked Sir Thorald, who had been fidgeting and staring at Jack through a gold-edged monocle.
"It's a pretty finger if Sir Thorald will permit me to say so," said Jack, laughing and setting his gun up against a tree. "Dorrie, didn't you save any salad? Ricky, you devouring scourge, there's not a bit of caviare! I'm hungry Oh, thanks, Betty, you did think of the prodigal, didn't you?" "It was Cecil," she said, slyly; "I was saving it for him. What did you shoot, Jack?"
Our knowledge of the "forbidden land," as it is called, has been obtained chiefly from adventurers who have travelled through it in disguise, and from a few others who took more desperate chances by forcing their way in. Among these may be mentioned Bower, Thorald, the Littledales, Rockhill, Captain Deasy, Sven Hedin, and Walter Savage Landor.
Sir Thorald was one of those men who cease to care for a woman when she begins to care for them.
It had been so from the first, when he had told her that her father lay dead somewhere in the forest of Morteyn. She had said nothing she went to her room and sat down on the bed, white and still. Sir Thorald lay in the next room, breathing deeply. Alixe was kneeling beside him, crying silently. Twice a surgeon from an infantry regiment had come and gone away after a glance at Sir Thorald.
For men she had no respect whatever, but conceded a grudging admiration to Mr. Thorald as "the usefullest biddablest male person" she had ever seen. She also extended special sympathy to Mrs. Thorald on account of her peculiar burden, and the Swedish woman had no antipathy to her color, and seemed to take a melancholy pleasure in Julianna's caustic speeches.
In the vestry is the famous horn of Alphus. It was given by Alph, or Alphus, son of Thorald, a little while before the Conquest. Alphus laid it on the altar of the minster, as a sign that he gave certain lands to the church. The horn is made out of an elephant's tusk. The wide end of the horn is ornamented with carvings of griffin dogs, a unicorn, and a lion eating a doe.
He had reached the edge of the little vineyard, and was about to cross a tangle of briers and stubble, when something caught his eye in the thicket; it was a man's face and he stopped. For a minute they stared at each other, making no movement, no sound. "Sir Thorald!" faltered Jack. But Sir Thorald Hesketh could not speak, for he had a bullet through his lungs.
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