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Updated: May 10, 2025
"I did think Potter was better up in his work, I did. A pretty bungle he'll make of it!" "It would serve him right, for interfering with fellow-professionals in this infernal unprincipled manner. But he shan't have the chance, Braddle, he shan't have the chance; we'll steal a march on him this time." "Is the coast clear yet?" said Braddle. "We must risk it.
"He's not such a bad-lookin' chap. He is na short-legged or turn-up- nosed, an' that's summat. He con stride along, an' he looks healthy enow for aw he's thin. A thin chap nivver looks as common as a fat un. If he wur pudgy, it ud be a lot more agen him." "I think, perhaps," amiably remarked the duke, sipping his beef tea, "that you had better not call him a `chap, Braddle. The late Mr.
As he entered the saloon, a gust from the open window blew out the light. He stood there in the dark and an icy draught; and, beginning to grope about in the dark for the matches, he brushed against something which was soft and had a cloth-like texture. "It's Braddle!" he thought, and his blood ran cold; "or else the Count!" And he called them both respectfully.
"When, Braddle, do you think I shall be able to take a drive again?" he asked his nurse. Braddle was not prepared to say upon her own responsibility, but the doctor would tell him when he came in that afternoon. "I feel astonishingly well, considering the sharpness of the attack," her patient said. "Our little talk has quite stimulated me.
"She gets more pressing every evening, and she's been taking to threatening dreadful of late.... If the Count and that Braddle ever come back now, it won't be to take her off my hands; it'll more likely be to have my life for letting them into such a trap.
He waited for a little while after the statue was silent, and then took up the sacking left for him by Braddle; twice he attempted to throw it over the marble, and twice he recoiled. "It's no use," he said, "I can't do it; they must do it themselves!"
He was, however, amiably obstinate, and was accustomed to getting his own way in most things. On this day of his outing he insisted on driving himself in the face of arguments to the contrary. He was so fixed in his intention that his daughters and Mrs. Braddle were obliged to admit themselves overpowered. "Nonsense!
His indisposition had not condemned him to the usual dullness, however. He had suffered less pain than was customary, and Mrs. Braddle had been more than usually interesting in conversation on those occasions when, in making him very comfortable in one way or another, she felt that a measure of entertainment would add to his well-being.
The beef tea was excellently savory, the fire was warm, and relief from two weeks of pain left a sort of Nirvana of peace. Rarely had the duke passed a more delightfully entertaining morning. There was a richness in the Temple Barholm situation, as described in detail by Mrs. Braddle, which filled him with delight. His regret that he was not a writing person intensified itself.
Tweddle, I'll drop the investigator, and speak as man to man. "I know who told you that," said Leander; "it was that Count and his precious friend Braddle!" "Oh, you know them, do you? That's an odd guess for an innocent man, Tweddle!" "They found me out from inquiries at the gardens," said Leander; "and as for guessing, it's in this very paper. So it's me they've gone and implicated, have they?
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