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Updated: May 28, 2025
Margaret Thurston's reconciled, and we've hopes for John, though he's been harder of the two to bring round. Never do to have folks coming and setting 'em all wrong side up. Do you want to see 'em burned, my master?" "I want to see them true," was Mr Ewring's answer, "The burning doesn't much matter." "Oh, doesn't it?" sneered Bartle.
Chaka taught them that lesson, and they had learnt it well, and so it came about that Cetywayo was forced to allow the army to fight with us when Sir Bartle Frere gave them an opportunity of doing so, since their hearts were sick with peace, and for years they had clamoured to be allowed to 'wash their spears, saying that they were no longer men, but had become a people of women.
"An' how did I know but he'd stag aginst me?" said Bartle, very calmly. "Damn well you knew he would not," observed Ned M'Cormick, now encouraged by the bold and decided manner of Rouser Redhead. "Before ever you went into Fardorougha's sarvice you sed to more than one that you'd make him sup sorrow for his harshness to your father and family." "An' didn't he desarve it, Ned? Didn't he ruin us?"
"He has been badly wounded by an arrow in the side, and although he managed to cut it out and bind up the hurt, he confesses that he still suffers greatly. Here, Bartle, you are the best doctor among us," he added, turning to Won, who was at work mending some harness on the opposite side of the room; "see what you can do for the poor fellow."
The excitement of suspense, heightening with every hour that brought him nearer the fatal moment, was too great, and in spite of his entreaties, in spite of his promises that he would be perfectly quiet, the schoolmaster watched too. "What does it matter to me, lad?" Bartle said: "a night's sleep more or less? I shall sleep long enough, by and by, underground.
O'Donovan turned quickly about, and, with a keen glance at Bartle, replied, "Why, I don't know; I believe I might, once or so." "I am," said Flanagan, bitterly; "I am Connor." "An' who's the happy crature, will you tell us?"
I saw old Bartle die I saw you take the will from his pocket, read it, and put it in your pocket. I know all! except the terms of the will. But I've a pretty good idea of what those terms are. Do you know why? Because I watched you set off to Normandale by the eight-twenty train tonight!" "Hang you for a dirty sneak!" growled Pratt.
I said to the Baron yesterday, 'You know poor little Bartle is dead. The Baron, picking his teeth, murmured, turning over the leaves of his memory, 'Bartel! Bartel! I remember un petit gros, vrai? and the leaves of the Baron's memory were turned back, and Bartle was as much forgotten in five minutes as the burnt end of a cigarette.
"I'll sum up my own ideas on this matter, got from the various details that have been supplied to me since I came to Barford. Just consider my points one by one. Let's take them separately and see how they fit in. Mr. Bartle is seen by his shop-boy to take a certain paper from a book which came from the late John Mallathorpe's office at Mallathorpe Mill. He puts that paper in his pocket.
There was a strange silence in the room: the old man's wheezy breathing was no longer heard. And the clerk moved forward quickly and looked round the high back of the easy chair.... He knew at once what had happened knew that old Bartle was dead before he laid a finger on the wasted hand which had dropped helplessly at his side.
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