Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 19, 2025
"Miss Van Hoyt," he said, "will you allow me to introduce my cousin, Mr. Hardross Courage?" She bowed a little absently. "Are you interested in cricket, Miss Van Hoyt?" I asked inanely. "Not in the least," she answered. "I have a list somewhere in my purse, I think of English institutions which must be studied before one can understand your country-people.
Hardross Courage, the famous English cricketer and well-known sportsman. Mr. Courage is known to have left New York some months ago, for a hunting trip in the Rockies, and nothing has been heard of him for some time. No trace has been discovered of his guides, although his camp and outfit were found close at hand.
"You do not recognize me, Lady Dennisford?" I asked. She frowned slightly. "Your voice is familiar," she answered, "and why, you have a look of Hardross Courage! Who are you?" "I am Hardross Courage," I answered. "Please do not look at me as though I were something uncanny. The report of my death was a little premature!" She held out her hands. "My dear Hardross!" she exclaimed.
"See," he said, "it is the order for your rifle, and your ticket of membership. Hirsch!" Hirsch nodded and took me by the arm. A moment later I descended the three steps into the restaurant, which was now almost deserted. At half-past ten the next morning, I rang the bell at the door of my cousin's flat and inquired for Sir Gilbert Hardross.
"Is her Ladyship in, Murray?" I asked. "I believe so, sir," he answered. "Will you come into the drawing-room?" I followed him into Lady Dennisford's presence. She was writing letters in a small sanctum leading out of the drawing-room, and she looked round and nodded a cheery greeting to me. "In one moment, Hardross," she exclaimed. "I've just finished."
"I suppose," he said at last, looking from his extinct cigar into my face, "that I am not by any chance dreaming? It is you, my cousin Hardross, who has told me this amazing story." "Every word of which is true," I answered firmly, and I knew at once that he believed me. "Well," he said, after a short silence, "where do I come in?" "You fill a most important place," I answered.
It was my grandfather, Sir Hardross Courage, who was ambassador at Paris when Napoleon " "I know! I know!" he exclaimed. "Your grandfather! Good! And Nicholas Courage what of him?" "My uncle!" I answered. "You have heard of him in Teheran." A spot of color burned in his pallid cheeks. "I hesitate no longer," he cried.
He's up to his eyes in work, and as keen as a schoolboy on getting away for his holiday." "It's very good of you," I answered. My cousin regarded me critically. "You'll forgive my suggesting it, I'm sure, Hardross," he said, "but you have got something particular to say to him, I suppose? These fellows don't like being bothered about trifles. The responsibility is on my shoulders, you see."
And at 10.30 that morning, he left Saxby for the South Coast. My cousin met me at St. Pancras. I saw him before my own carriage had reached the platform, peering into the window of every compartment in his short-sighted way. He recognized me at last with a little wave of the hand. "Glad to see you, Hardross! These your things? We'll have a hansom. Where are you staying?"
After all, beauty is but skin deep! Hardross Courage, if I remember rightly, was rather a good-looking fellow. Who would have believed that ready-made clothes from Hamburg, glasses and a beard could work such a change?" I looked down a little disconsolately at my baggy trousers and thick clumsy boots.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking