United States or Jersey ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
But Luttrell only smiled and said: "Well, old man, since I disagree, the only course is to refer the whole problem to our honorary member." And at once every countenance lightened, and merriment began to flick and dance from one to other of that company like the beads on the surface of champagne. Only Hillyard was mystified. "Your honorary member!" he inquired.
"He goes and returns once a year. The journey takes him four months each way unless he meets with a party shooting. Then it takes longer for he goes with the party to get meat." Hillyard stared at the Arab in amazement. He was a lean slip of a man, almost as black as a negro, with his hair running back above the temples, and legs like walking-sticks.
The brown had turned black before Hillyard lifted the letter from the solution and spread it upon a sheet of blotting paper. "Now let us see!" and they read the letter through. One thousand pounds in English money were offered for reliable information as to the number of howitzers and tanks upon the British front.
"Yes, my expedition was really ended when the message reached me," Hillyard was forced to admit. "That's good," said the indifferent gentleman, brightening. "You will see Bendish, of course, in England. By what ship do you sail? It's not very pleasant here, is it?" "I shall sail on the Himalaya in a week's time."
Then Luttrell looked out across to the Blue Nile and those old wondrous days faded from his vision. "I should like you to get away bukra, bukra, Martin," he said. "Half-past one at the latest, to-morrow morning. Can you manage it?" "Why, of course," answered Hillyard in surprise. "You see, I postponed that execution, whilst you were here.
Hillyard could make neither head nor tail of the strange scene. It was evident that Luttrell was rehearsing a speech, but why? And what had the Sudanese with the mallet to do with it? A sudden and rapid sequence of events brought the truth home to him with a shock. At a point of his speech Luttrell stamped twice, and the Sudanese soldier swung his mallet with all his force.
She was staring into the fire, and her body was very still. But there was excitement in her voice. "Harry Luttrell," replied Hillyard, and Stella Croyle did not move. "I don't know what has become of him. You see, I had ninety pounds left out of the thousand when I left Oxford. So I just dived." "But you have come up again now. You will resume your friends at the point where you dived." "Not yet.
Hillyard nodded. His news could wait a week very well, since it had waited already two years. "And you?" he asked. "Oh, I had a fortnight," replied Miss Cheyne, her eyes dancing at the recollection. It was her pleasure to sail a boat in Bosham Creek and out towards the Island. "Not a day of rain during the whole time."
The incongruity struck Sir Chichester himself. "Perhaps it will seem rather impolite, eh, Luttrell? Rather hard treatment on a man who has come so far? What do you think, Hillyard? I suppose I ought to see him for a moment yes." Sir Chichester raised his voice in a sharp cry which contrasted vividly with the deliberative sentences preceding it. "Harper! Harper!" and Harper reappeared.
He quoted Sir Chichester's phrase, and hurried away from his friend. "I shall be back in a little while," he muttered. His bad hour was upon him, and he must wrestle with it alone. Martin Hillyard returned to the hall, and found Sir Chichester with the doctor, a short, rugged Scotsman. Dr. McKerrel was saying: "There's nothing whatever for me to do, Sir Chichester," he said.
Word Of The Day