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Updated: May 20, 2025
"Only to Paris as prosaic a journey as any cotton-spinner could desire." "Always plenty to be done in Paris," Daker said; "at least I have never felt at a loss. But it's a bachelor's paradise." "And a wife's," I interposed. "Not a husband's, you think?" Daker asked, turning the end of his moustache very tight. "I agree with you."
We fell, as fellow-travellers generally do, upon old stories of the ways of the world we had seen. He had taken wider ranges than my duties had ever entailed on me. Autumn was cooling to winter; it was early November when we met. "I have been," he said, "killing time and birds pleasantly enough in Sussex." Mrs. Daker overheard him, and smiled.
The whole story was breaking upon me; Bertram saw it, and my manner, become icy to him, was closing the sources upon me. I resolved to get the mystery cleared up. I resumed my former manner with him, ordered some Burgundy, and entreated him to proceed. "You remember," he said, "your story about the girl you met travelling with her husband on the Boulogne boat Mrs. Daker."
Bertram's suspicions seemed to be fixed on Daker, whom he had never seen; although I had described his eminently prepossessing qualities. "I can't understand why you should suspect Daker of villany, as I see you do, Bertram." "I tell you he was a most accomplished, prepossessing villain, my dear Q.M. Your upper class villains are always prepossessing.
Daker appeared to be a man not yet over his thirtieth year. He was fair, full-blooded, with a bright grey eye, a lithe shapely build, and distinguished in air and movement withal. There were no marks upon his face; his eyes were frank and direct; his speech was firm and of a cheery ring; and emotions seemed to come and go in him as in an unused nature.
"Good morning," Daker said, meaning that there was an end of our fortuitous intercourse, and that he should be just as chatty and familiar with any man who might happen to be in the same carriage with him between Boulogne and Paris.
No no Herbert Daker." Sharp had sprung from his chair, and was shaking his fist in the air. "Daker! Herbert Daker!" I seized Reuben Sharp by the shoulder, and shook him violently. "What do you know about Herbert Daker?" Sharp turned upon me a face shattered with rage, and hissed at me. "What do I know about him? What do you about him? Are you his friend?"
Humble, and yet stately, a white face with red and swollen eyelids, eyes with command in them. We were uncovered, and in an instant wholly subdued. "My child my girl!" Reuben Sharp moaned. The clergyman approached him, and laid his hand upon him. "Whom do you want?" "Mrs. Daker my " The pale lady, full of grief, advanced a step, and looking full in the face of Reuben Sharp, said, "I, sir, am Mrs.
It is no concern of mine, but I have seen more than you imagine I have seen Daker; I have been with Sharp." Bertram grasped my arm. "Tell me all, then; I must know all. You don't know how I have suffered, my dear Q. M. Tell me everything." "First let me ask you, Bertram, have you been an honourable man to Mrs. Daker?" "Explain yourself." "Where is she? Her uncle has broken his heart!"
I went to the police, paid to have inquiries kept up in all the hotels; and lastly, put her in communication with a good business man Moffum, you know; and left her, a wreck of one of the prettiest creatures I have ever seen." "What kind of fellow was the husband? You got his name, of course?" "Daker Herbert Daker. Man of good family.
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