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Updated: June 21, 2025
Hornett, more moved than ever, and coughing to clear a little huskiness in the throat. 'Shall I venture, sir, to look in on Mr. Phil in the morning? 'Yes, go, James, said Bommaney, sobbing outright by this time. 'Perhaps perhaps he may believe me. When young Mr. Barter took time to think about things, he began, for more reasons than one, to be sorry.
He's an honest man himself, James a very honest high-minded man indeed. I must look where he lives, he murmured, seeking for the envelope his son had given him. 'He gave me his address. 'His address, sir, said Hornett. 'You could almost lay your hand on him. He lives there.
Then Bommaney told all he knew of the story of his own loss, and at a certain point in the narrative Hornett started and made a step forward. He remembered the night well enough he had reason to remember it. An appointment for the theatre that evening had led him to call upon a brother clerk in Gable Inn, and he had seen young Mr.
I don't believe in being honest. It's a it's a vile wicked world, Hornett, and it's my belief the devil rules it. 'Oh, sir, cried Hornett, you mustn't talk like this, sir. You must excuse me speaking free, sir, but I can't stand by and hear you talk like that. I can't listen to it, sir I can't really. I've never said a disrespectful word to you, Mr.
Nobody has a minute's trust in me nobody thinks of misfortune or disaster. I was right to run away and hide myself, for nobody would have believed me if I had stayed and told the truth. Hornett looked more frightened than before after this outburst, but Bommaney read incredulity in his face, and answered it with an added passion. 'What good would it do me to tell lies to you?
Weatherall, sir, promised, personally, that if I called again, he'd kick me down the steps. Bommaney groaned. 'What do you want with me? he asked again. They were standing by this time outside the doors of a public-house, and the wind-driven rain was pelting down heavily. 'I thought, sir said Hornett; 'I'm very hard pressed, sir. The dog-like, propitiatory smile never varied.
Let's get at him. Where is he? The old boy tugged furiously at the bell-pull. 'Send Brenner round to the stable, he said to the servant. 'Tell him to get the horses to, and bring the carriage round at once. Where's your father, Phil? 'He's down Poplar way, said Phil. 'Hornett, his old clerk, is living in the same house with him.
The sense of his son's high feeling of honour gave him a keen throb of pride, and then he thought bitterly that his own ill-luck pursued his offspring. The loss was double. It had disgraced and ruined him, and had robbed his son of his inheritance. 'Hornett, he said, 'James Hornett. 'Yes, sir.
Bommaney; if you please, sir. He started at the sound of a voice which had been familiar to him for years. 'I should like a word with you, sir; if you please. James Hornett was less changed than his old employer, but it was evident that he too had fallen upon evil times.
Bommaney had aged dreadfully during his year of hiding, and Hornett, who had drunk his employer's health upon his birthdays often enough to know his age to a day, could yet scarce believe that the dreadful spectre who knelt beside him numbered less than fourscore years. One question perplexed Hornett's mind.
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