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Updated: June 3, 2025
Haigh had cut loose another of the mules, and had deliberately ridden the old man down. "It's an old polo trick," said he, with a pleased grin. "Useful when a man persistently crosses you; quite simple when you know it. Good-afternoon, Mrs. Cromwell. Afternoon, Juggins, dear boy. Let me congratulate you on drawing this game. I thought we were going to gather in the beans. Eh, what's that?"
A further difficulty lies in the fact stated by Haigh that runes had passed out of date on funeral monuments as late as the year 1000, and we can indeed scarcely conceive of their use at the very eve of the Norman Conquest when the written language had long become general. Nevertheless, as far back as 1890, Mr.
Sir William Bradshaigh was a great warrior, and went crusading for ten years, leaving his beautiful wife, Mabel, alone at Haigh Hall. A dastard Welsh knight compelled her to marry him, telling her that her husband was dead, and treated her cruelly; but Sir William came back to the hall disguised as a palmer.
And I pulled out of my jacket pocket a little two-lugged red earthenware pot, and poured out a chinking heap of something that glinted with many colours in the lamplight. "Look there! Essence of rainbows, a good half-pint. Who says half a loaf isn't better than no bread?" "Good Lord!" said Haigh. And after a pause, "Who have you been robbing?" "Grub first, and then yarn.
And besides, these Fleet sailormen will make an additional argument towards lying low for a bit. He'll see how they wander about in batches into all sorts of unexpected places, and he will be very chary about rootling up the cache whilst they are in the neighbourhood and likely to disturb him." "There's a good deal in that," commented Haigh, blinking at the shabby black steamer thoughtfully.
"Let's split a bottle of vermouth," said he, "and drink confusion to every one except our two selves." And we did it. The breeze lulled at daybreak, and northed till we had it nearly fair. "This is great business," said Haigh. "I'll bet you five hundred pounds that we make the islands in the next twenty-four hours. I.O.U.'s accepted."
But, with my hand on the latch of the door, a sound met my ear which caused me to pause. It was the well-known mellow voice of my friend Mr. Haigh, raised in argument. I recognized it in an instant. It is a conceit of mine to study voices, and a peculiar talent never to forget them. "To enter might have caused unpleasantness.
If we'd possessed a grain of sense between us we should have started the moment we stepped ashore. Weems may be cooped up still, but that's only guess-work on our parts. It's quite possible he cleared himself directly after you left, and went to the Talayot straight away." Haigh blinked at me sleepily. "You're in the deuce of a flurry, old man. Been having evil dreams?
Indeed, when we picked up an equinoctial gale half-way across, and had our hands exceedingly full to keep the boat afloat, the man fairly revelled in the scene and the work; and what's more, that sleepy, straggling person Haigh did too. It wasn't in my line at all. I've not the smallest objection to getting cold and wet when there is a big elk or a good bag of grouse in question; that's different.
Haigh, who was in no sort of condition, got utterly spun out by a five-minutes' spell at the pump, and consequently it had been my task to restore the incoming Mediterranean to its proper place again. It was a job that wearied every nerve in my body. "Look here," said Haigh, "you get below and turn in. I'm quite equal to keeping awake until further notice.
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