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Updated: June 8, 2025
This was the first time the two men had met alone since Dyck had arrived in Jamaica, or since his trial. Calhoun was dressed in planter's costume, and the governor was in an officer's uniform.
Rubens waited expectantly, thinking to have news from his brilliant pupil in Italy. He waited a month. Two months passed, and still no word. After three months a citizen reported that the day before he had seen Van Dyck, aided by a young woman, putting up a picture in the village church at Saventhem. Rubens saddled his horse and rode down there.
So, if you'll give me your order, keeping a copy of it for the provost-marshal, I'll see it's delivered to Dyck Calhoun before morning perhaps by midnight. It's not more than a six hours' journey in the ordinary way." At that moment an aide-de-camp entered, and with grave face presented to the governor the last report from the provost-marshal-general. Then he watched the governor read the report.
"The teeth in their flesh!" said Dyck with a grim smile. "Yes, that is the only way with them. Naught can put the fear of God into them except bloodhounds, and that Lord Mallow will not have. He has been set against it until now. But this business will teach him. He may change his mind now, since what he cares for is in danger his place and his ladies!" Mrs.
And yet the duke, not clever as compared to his guests, not even good-looking as compared to the splendid gentlemen whom Van Dyck and Lely had painted, undistinguished, in fine, in everything save rank and wealth, worked, early and late, harder than any labourer upon his vast domain. And when John said to Fluff, "I say, Esmé, why does the duke work so beastly hard?"
"Oh, they play cards, do they, at the Breakneck Club?" said Dyck, alive with interest. "Well, call it what you like, but men must do something when they get together, and we can't be talking all the time. So pocket your shillings." "Are they all the right sort?" asked Dyck, with a little touch of malice. "I mean, are they loyal and true?" Erris Boyne laid a hand on Dyck's arm. "Come and find out.
You never knew it, and I never knew it till an hour ago. Did you know who Erris Boyne was? Well, I'll tell you. He was the father of Miss Sheila Llyn. He was divorced by Mrs. Llyn many years ago, for having to do with other women. She took to her maiden name, and he married again. "Good God! Good God!" Dyck Calhoun made a gesture of horror. "He Sheila Llyn's father! Good God!"
Here the letter shall again take up the story, and be a narrative of Dyck Calhoun's life from that time until this Christmas Day. What to do was the question. I knew no one in Jamaica no one at all except the governor, Lord Mallow, and him I had fought with swords in Phoenix Park five years before. I had not known he was governor here.
Again in England, Van Dyck employed Sir Kenelm Digby to make an offer on the painter's part that for eight hundred pounds he would paint the history, and a procession of the Knights of the Garter on the walls of the Knights' banqueting-room at Whitehall that palace which was to have surpassed the Louvre, the Tuileries, and the Escurial, and from one of the windows of which Charles stepped out on his scaffold.
He's been lying here unconscious ever since; but his pulse is all right, and we'll soon have him fit again." So saying, Dyck whipped out a horn containing spirit, and, while Sheila lifted the injured head, he bathed the old man's face with the spirit, then opened the mouth and let some liquor trickle down. "He's the cleanest peasant I ever saw," remarked Sheila; "and he's coming to. Look at him!"
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