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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Did you did you think Fromentin was a Jew? God bless me! he's no more one than I am! Why, not even so much, for there IS a Herschell in my pedigree. Why, dear man, they were Crusaders!" Thorpe smiled somewhat sheepishly. "I never noticed much," he said. "It was a foreign-looking name. I took it for granted." Lord Chaldon bent his brows a little. "Yes-s" he murmured, meditatively.
They were all young fellows of Nether-Moynton, Chaldon, and the neighbourhood, quiet and inoffensive persons, who simply engaged to carry the cargo for Lizzy and her cousin Owlett, as they would have engaged in any other labour for which they were fairly well paid. At a word from her they closed in together. 'You had better take it now, she said to them; and handed to each a packet.
Of course, I shall do something for them; they shan't be allowed to make trouble even supposing that it would be in their power to make trouble, which isn't the case. But it won't be done by any means on the same scale that " he paused abruptly, and the two men tacitly completed his sentence in the glance they exchanged. The Marquis of Chaldon rose, and took up his hat and stick.
Fromentin," he gave the name its English vowels with an obstinate emphasis, "and I have heard his statement. You have heard it too. If he wishes to lay more facts before us, why, well and good. But then I would suggest that he leave the matter in our hands, to discuss and look into between ourselves. That seems to you the proper course, doesn't it, Lord Chaldon?"
The Saxon font and Norman chancel arch are also of much interest. The highroad from Wareham to Dorchester makes a wide loop southwards from the railway at Wool and approaches Chaldon a mile away to the north. Between the village and the turnpike is a ridge upon which are the remarkable tumuli called "The Five Maries."
He had a conspicuously wide mouth, and its trick of sidelong extension at this moment was very unpleasant. "Ah, Herr Je! He never heard it," he ejaculated, turning nervously to the Marquis. "Would to the good God you never had!" he told Thorpe, with suppressed excitement. Lord Chaldon, his own voice shaken a little, interposed with an explanation.
This large apartment was no longer called the Board Room by anybody. By tacit processes, it had become Mr. Thorpe's room. Not even the titular Chairman of the Company, the renowned and eminent Lord Chaldon, ex-Ambassador and ex-Viceroy, entered this chamber now with any assumption of proprietorship in it.
The hired carriers paced along over Chaldon Down with as little hesitation as if it had been day, avoiding the cart-way, and leaving the village of East Chaldon on the left, so as to reach the crest of the hill at a lonely trackless place not far from the ancient earthwork called Round Pound. An hour's brisk walking brought them within sound of the sea, not many hundred yards from Lulstead Cove.
"But pardon me" said Lord Chaldon, in a quiet, very gentle, yet insistent voice, which seemed now to recall to its listeners the fact that sovereigns and chancellors had in their day had attentive ears for its tones "pardon me, but why should it not be possible?" Thorpe frowned doubtfully, and shifted his position in his chair. "What could I say, if it were discussed?" he made vague retort.
'Something'!" repeated the other, with a fluttering gesture of his hands over his thin, pointed knees "everything, Mr. Thorpe!" "That's a tolerably large order, isn't it?" Thorpe asked, calmly, moving a slow, inscrutable glance from one to the other of his callers. "I could ask for nothing that would be a greater personal favour and kindness" Lord Chaldon interposed.
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