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Updated: June 22, 2025
The dedication and the name of the village are in some doubt. Authorities make claim for St. Brendan as the patron, hence Branscombe. A chapel was built at Seaton in honour of this traveller saint.
It seemed at first as if the doctor's gloomy predictions were to be falsified, for Branscombe continued long in a half-slumber, and even appeared to be more tranquil than he had been during the afternoon.
"Scanlon himself was at the battle," I went on, "and he saw the whole thing and was a witness to Tautala getting the seven dollars, and he made To'oto'o pony up four dollars more as the price of his own secrecy." "Four dollars," ejaculated Scanlon. "That's right, Captain Branscombe. Four dollars!" "So, if you are angry with anybody," I said, "you ought to be angry with Tautala.
I did the little I could, and let it be pretty well understood about the beach that the man who played fast and loose with her would have to reckon with old Captain Branscombe.
The doctor and his niece had left for town last night; the other masters had made an early start that morning; and Railsford, junior master, and consequently officer of the guard for the day, imagined himself, as he stood there with his portmanteau about two o'clock, the "last of the Mohicans." "Who is it?" he said, as the cab rumbled through the gateway. "It's Mr Branscombe, sir.
No, Gaptain Branscombe, I'm only a poor paker, but I'd count myself a traidor to my family were I to dake a murderess for my pride!" "Rosalie isn't a murderess," I said. "I meant niece of a murderer," he returned. I was too speechless with indignation to utter another word.
"Have you any idea what the row is?" said Smedley to Branscombe as the company stood round the tables, waiting for the doctor. "How should I know? You'd better go and ask up there." Smedley did. As the doctor entered, he marched up to meet him, and said, "None of Mr Railsford's house are here yet, sir." "Quite right. Call silence for grace and begin," said the doctor, slowly.
He might explain, without mentioning names, how he had learned the facts; but that would be as good as naming the culprit, for Branscombe had been the only case of serious illness accompanied by delirium at Grandcourt during the last two terms. He might write to Branscombe, and tell him his dilemma, and beseech him to make a confession.
Under the central figure of the captive he read in Greek capitals the legend BIKEROS; over the head of his tall assailant was written BRANSKOMOS. The person sitting and embracing the captive's knees was labelled KLIPSTONOS, while the mysterious figure in the rear, pointing out the dungeon, bore the name of MUNGEROS. Over the door itself was written BOOTBOX. Below the whole was written the first line of the Iliad, and in the corner, in minute characters, were the words, "S. Branscombe, inv. et del."
Branscombe slept steadily and quietly through the forenoon, and then woke, clear in mind, and, as the doctor anticipated, with an appetite. He swallowed the meal prepared for him with considerably less pain than yesterday, and then, for the first time, recognised his nurse. "Thank you, sir," said he; "have I been seedy long?"
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