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"DEAR MARTINGALE. Don't be too sure of Binnacle's yacht. There are still ten days before the season is over; and my ponies may lie at Coutts's for some time to come. "Yours, "P. S. I write with my left hand; for my right is still splintered up from that confounded fall."
"I hear a church clock striking twelve; and by the moon it must be that. The wind is still from the shore, but veering, and I felt a flaw from the east just now." "If the wind works round, our turn will come. Is Donovan fit for duty yet?" "Ten times fit, sir to use his own expression. He is burning to have at somebody. His eyes work about like the binnacle's card."
Bagnigge was lying ill chez lui; and the five-and-twenty thousand were irrecoverably his. And he vowed he would buy Lord Binnacle's yacht crew, captain, guns and all. On returning home that night from Lady Polkimore's, Martingale found among the many billets upon the gold plateau in his antichambre, the following brief one, which made him start
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