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Updated: June 25, 2025
The Baron coughed, but said nothing. “My biography for all practical purposes,” Mr Bunker continued, “begins in that sequestered retreat, Clankwood Asylum. How and with whom I came there I haven’t the very faintest recollection. I simply woke up from an extraordinary drowsiness to find myself recovering from a sharp attack of what I may most euphoniously call mental excitement.
Towards four o’clock on the following afternoon Mr Beveridge and Moggridge were walking leisurely down the long drive leading from the mansion of Clankwood to the gate that opened on the humdrum outer world. Finding that an inelastic matter of yards was all the tether he could hope for, Mr Beveridge thought it best to take the bull by the horns, and make a companion of this necessity.
So you must accept a friend’s sympathy if it does not seem to you too bold and forward of her!!! Perhaps we may meet again, as I sometimes go to Clankwood. Au revoir.—Your sympathetic well-wisher. He folded it up and put it in his waistcoat-pocket, then he exclaimed in an audible aside, his voice shaking with the most affecting thrill, “Perhaps we may meet again! Only perhaps!
Invitations to the balls at Clankwood were naturally in great demand throughout the county, for nowhere were noblemen so numerous and divinities so tangible. Carriages and pairs rolled up one after another, the mansion glittered with lights, the strains of the band could be heard loud and stirring or low and faintly all through the house.
“I haf been rude, Bonker; I haf insulted you! You forgif me?” “With all my heart, if you think it’s needed, but——” “And you vill not go now? You vill stay here?” “What, two Barons at once? My dear chap, we’d merely confuse the butler.” “Ach, you vill joke, you hombog! But you most stay!” “And what about my friend, Dr Escott? No, Baron, it would only mean breakfast and the next train to Clankwood.”
With something that sounded unlike a blessing, the pair were thrown almost on their haunches to check them in time. Never stopping to explain, he threw open the door and sprang in; the coachman, hearing no sound of protest, whipped up again, and Mr Beveridge found himself rolling through the park of Clankwood in the Countess of Grillyer’s carriage with a very timid little figure by his side.
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