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Updated: September 10, 2025
Jorrocks, it's long since we met," said Brackenbury, looking me over "never, I think, since I showed you way over the Weald of Sussex from Torrington Wood, on the gallant wite with the Colonel's 'ounds! Ah, those were rare days, Mr. Jorrocks! we shall never see their like again! But you're looking fresh. Time lays a light hand on your bearing-reins!
First, the guests, who were no real guests after all, had been dismissed; and now the servants, who could hardly be genuine servants, were actively dispersing. "Was the whole establishment a sham?" he asked himself. "The mushroom of a single night which should disappear before morning?" Watching a favourable opportunity, Brackenbury dashed upstairs to the highest regions of the house.
My scheme was at least original; and I am far from regretting an action which has procured me the services of Major O'Rooke and Lieutenant Brackenbury Rich. But the servants in the street will have a strange awakening. The house which this evening was full of lights and visitors they will find uninhabited and for sale to-morrow morning.
Through the continuous noise of the rain, the steps and voices of two men became audible from the other side of the wall; and, as they drew nearer, Brackenbury, whose sense of hearing was remarkably acute, could even distinguish some fragments of their talk. "Is the grave dug?" asked one. "It is," replied the other; "behind the laurel hedge.
"During a long life," replied Major O'Rooke, "I never took back my hand from anything, nor so much as hedged a bet." Brackenbury signified his readiness in the most becoming terms; and after they had drunk a glass or two of wine, the Colonel gave each of them a loaded revolver, and the three mounted into the cab and drove off for the address in question.
As he passed the window, on his return to the drawing-room, Brackenbury could hear him utter a profound sigh, as though his mind was loaded with a great anxiety, and his nerves already fatigued with the task on which he was engaged. For perhaps an hour the hansoms kept arriving with such frequency that Mr.
And Jo Brackenbury, the dandiest rip, the noisiest pal that ever said 'Here's how! went out to heaven on a tearing sea." "Jo Brackenbury " Roscoe repeated musingly. His head was turned away from us. Roscoe's face looked haggard as it now turned towards us. "If you will meet me," he said to the stranger, "to-morrow morning, in Mr.
When Phil's pal left us he went wandering down the hillside, talking to himself. Long afterwards he told me how he felt, and I reproduce his phrases as nearly as I can. "Knocked 'em, I guess," he said, "with that about Jo Brackenbury. . . . Poor Jo!
Except at Madrid, the Bibles and Testaments in Borrow's depots throughout Spain were seized by the Government. The books had at last to be sent out of the country, British Consuls were forbidden to countenance religious agents; and in the opinion of the Consul at Seville, J. M. Brackenbury, this was directly due to Graydon's indiscretions. The Society were kind to him.
The flowering shrubs had disappeared from the staircase; three large furniture waggons stood before the garden gate; the servants were busy dismantling the house upon all sides; and some of them had already donned their great-coats and were preparing to depart. It was like the end of a country ball, where everything has been supplied by contract. Brackenbury had indeed some matter for reflection.
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