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Updated: May 4, 2025
"The Rovers win! The Rovers win!" was the shout that went up, and in the midst of the hubbub Dick and Tom crossed the line, winning by at least six lengths. Koswell and Larkspur were so disgusted that they did not even finish, but stopped rowing and turned away from the float. "The Rovers win," announced Frank Holden. "A fine race, too," he added.
They saw a number of the other students looking at them questioningly. Jerry Koswell saw them return, and was much astonished. Had his plot to put them in disgrace miscarried, after all? Larkspur, too, was perplexed. Flockley was a bit relieved, and half hoped the whole matter would blow over and nothing more be heard of it. The day went by, and the other lads did not see Tom.
If I understand the business right, Mr. Douglas Dale is his brother's heir?" "Yes," said Lady Eversleigh; "his life only now stands between Sir Reginald and fortune." "Then he will take that life by Carrington's agency, as I believe he has taken Lionel Dale's," said Mr. "Why in London? How do you know he's there?" Mr. Larkspur smiled. "Lord bless your innocence!" he replied. "How do I know it?
All were rather sleepy in the morning, but a good wash in cold water brightened them greatly. While getting ready for breakfast they looked for Flockley and Koswell, but those two students, as well as Larkspur, kept out of sight. "They don't like the way matters turned out last night," said Dick. On entering the dining-room they saw the sophomores at a nearby table.
"Here it is blue, like larkspur, and all fragrant of the vintage, and joyous with the songs of the vintagers," she said. "There it is dingy-brown, and songless, and it smells of smoke." "Yes," he agreed. "But you are a sportsman? You go in for shooting?" she conjectured. "No," he answered. "I gave up shooting years ago." "Oh ? Hunting, then?" "I hate hunting.
Andrew Larkspur was really a very clever and a very successful detective, and he had seldom been foiled in a better-laid plan than that which had induced him to follow Lionel Dale to the meet on this occasion.
Will you not go down among them? among those sweet living things, whose new courage, sprung from the earth with the deep colour of heaven upon it, is starting up in strength of goodly spire; and whose purity, washed from the dust, is opening, bud by bud, into the flower of promise; and still they turn to you, and for you, "The Larkspur listens I hear, I hear! And the Lily whispers I wait."
Larkspur, though not much given to surprise, was somewhat astonished to perceive that his lady-visitor did not open her eyes any wider on receiving this intelligence. "If you have earned eight hundred a year by your profession," she returned, quietly, "I will give you twenty pounds a week for your exclusive services, and that will be a thousand and forty pounds a year."
Then she found herself on her feet in a garden, moving very carefully for fear of falling; and everything about her was gigantic, from Jane Nettles, the nurse, at whose skirt she tugged when she wanted to attract attention, to the brown wallflower and the purple larkspur which she could not reach to pull.
Only a month had elapsed since Lionel Dale's death, when Reginald Eversleigh and Paulina had the interview described above. And now it seemed as though Fate itself were conspiring with the conspirators, for the watch kept upon them by Andrew Larkspur was perforce delayed, and Lady Eversleigh's designs of retributive punishment were suspended. A few days after the return of Mr.
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