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Updated: May 10, 2025
"I am very glad, sir. But, oh dear no, that wasn't the dinner-bell. That meant that some of the prisoners had escaped. Poor fellows! I always feel sorry for them." "Mrs Champernowne!" cried Uncle Paul, and Rodd, who was in his room with his face under water, raised it up, grinning, for he knew his uncle's peculiar ways by heart, and he went on listening to what was said.
"Hah!" roared Uncle Paul, in a voice that almost shook the diamond-paned casement. "Say no more, Mrs Champernowne. You are quite right, and I admire your sympathies. Madam, you are a lady!" "Oh, really, Dr Robson " "I repeat it, madam, you are a lady, and I applaud everything you have said. But what about that gun?"
"Getting out my other suit, uncle," said the boy quickly. "What for? Don't do that! We are going over the moor again to-day." "But I must, uncle," cried Rodd. "Mush!" "Yes. Oh, I shall be obliged to tell you. It was all your fault, uncle; you didn't fasten the door as Mrs Champernowne told you, and there have been thieves in the night."
It all went very well in fact, a lot better than I'd hoped for, chance favoured me in a very peculiar way, and the Dowl hisself couldn't have planned a greater or more startling surprise for Cranston Champernowne. Along he came presently, with his head down and his shoulders up. Like a haunted creature he crept from the woods; his face was white, and misery stared out of it.
The moor's very big, and surely if you and the young gentleman look well you'll be able to find plenty of things to fill your bottles, without going abroad." "Can't be done, Mrs Champernowne," said Uncle Paul smiling.
"No," he gasped, with a sigh of relief. "He's gone." "Well, we knew he'd gone, boy." "Yes, uncle, but I was afraid that he'd stop talking to Mrs Champernowne, and she would tell him about their coming here. But he didn't stop, and he has gone right away." "Hah!" ejaculated Uncle Paul.
I never enjoyed anything half so much before in my life. The ham was tenderness itself, the eggs new-laid the bread the butter the tea eh, Pickle?" "Delicious, uncle." "The fat of the land, Mrs Champernowne," continued the doctor; "the riches of these smiling pastures.
"Hah!" said Uncle Paul, leaning back in his chair to take hold of his bunch of seals and haul up by the broad watered silk ribbon the big double-cased gold watch that ticked away from where it reclined warm and comfortable at the bottom of his fob. "Confound their politics, Frustrate their knavish tricks!" "That was a very fine tea, Mrs Champernowne.
In a few words the paper swept away Squire Champernowne's former wills and testaments, and left Woodcotes to Lawrence Champernowne, the son of General Sir Arthur and the brother of the chap as had just flung the paper in the river. So there 'twas, and even a slower-witted man than me might have read the riddle in a moment.
And it was the inner man who now spoke "Our tea-supper nearly ready, Mrs Champernowne?" "Oh yes, sir. The second rasher's about done. How many eggs shall I cook?" "Oh, one, or perhaps two, for me," shouted Uncle Paul. "Oh, I say!" muttered Rodd. "Better cook eight or ten for my nephew," cried the doctor dryly. "He'll eat like a young wolf." "What a shame!" muttered Rodd.
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