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Updated: April 30, 2025
He, Lord Grey, and Buise consequently separated from the rest, who took different courses. He and his companions galloped on till they reached Cranbourne Chase, where their horses broke down. Having concealed the bridles and saddles, and disguised themselves in the dresses of countrymen, they proceeded on foot to the New Forest.
"Our mutual friend, Mister Cranbourne?" "I was referring to a gentleman whose initials are A. B." "A. B.! Wasn't that the guy who went out to look for a radium field three weeks ago today?" "The same," said Cranbourne sweetly. "But we had reason to believe he changed his plans and accepted another invitation." "You've been dreaming, dear," said Hipps. "Perhaps I have, Mr. Hipps.
"Yes, yes, but was there not dear me, it's so long ago I've almost forgotten was there not some floral Lingua Franca Ah! the language of flowers." Cassis snorted, but Cranbourne was at the book shelves in an instant. "It's printed at the back of dictionaries," he said. "Here's one!" He took out a volume and turned over the pages as he spoke. "This is it. Rose Love. Yellow rose jealousy.
All these are fellows that will strike hard, and ask no question why their hands are ever readier than their tongues, and their mouths are more made for drinking than speaking." Whitaker, apprised of the necessity of the case, asked if he should not warn Sir Jasper Cranbourne.
"Gentlemen, it's come to our ears that a certain Mr. Barraclough is taking grave risks tonight to get home." Cranbourne flashed an eye at the bedroom door. "Go on!" he said. "Talk straight, man." Hilbert Torrington held up a hand. "One minute," he suggested. "I imagine Mr. Hipps is reluctant to speak out before so many witnesses. It would be better perhaps if Mr.
He bowed formally, but courteously, to both gentlemen, and said, that he was "Sir Jasper Cranbourne, charged with an especial message to Master Ralph Bridgenorth of Moultrassie Hall, by his honourable friend Sir Geoffrey Peveril of the Peak, and that he requested to know whether Master Bridgenorth would be pleased to receive his acquittal of commission here or elsewhere."
They came to Sir G. Carteret's house at Cranbourne, and there were entertained, and all made drunk; and being all drunk, Armerer did come to the King, and swore to him by God, "Sir," says he, "you are not so kind to the Duke of York of late as you used to be." "Not I?" says the King. "Why so?" "Why," says he, "if you are, let us drink his health." "Why let us," says the King.
Just as their party came into the churchyard on the one side, Doctor Dummerar, dressed in full pontificals, in a sort of triumphal procession accompanied by Peveril of the Peak, Sir Jasper Cranbourne, and other Cavaliers of distinction, entered at the other.
"Tremendously sorry," said Cranbourne, "but I want to ask you a few more questions about that fellow I spoke of." "I've been thinking about him myself, sir, and one or two things have come to mind. Remembered his tie for instance." "Yes." "Old Etonian colours," said Brown. Cranbourne nodded enthusiastically. "Anything else?"
It was Cranbourne who came forward and picking her up in his arms like an injured child carried her into the other room and laid her on Barraclough's bed. "We haven't lost yet, my dear," he said, and stroked her forehead. He left her crying gently on the pillow, her little pink cheeks all shiny with tears. Mr.
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