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Updated: May 12, 2025
He, a man of fifty, a man of set habits, a man habituated to the liberty of the wild stag, to bow his proud neck under the solid footwear of Lady Sophia Entwistle! Yes, there was most decidedly a silver lining to the dark cloud of Leek's translation to another sphere of activity. In replacing the pocket-book his hand encountered the letter which had arrived for Leek in the morning.
Nobody who had had the advantage of Leek's acquaintance would have said "Poor Leek!" For Leek's greatest speciality had always been the speciality of looking after Leek, and wherever Leek might be it was a surety that Leek's interests would not suffer. Therefore Priam Farll's pity was mainly self-centred.
This was one of Leek's escapades! No revelations as to the past of Henry Leek would have surprised him. There was nothing to be done except to give a truthful denial of identity and to persist in that denial. Useless to say soothingly to the lady visitor that she was the widow of a gentleman who had been laid to rest in Westminster Abbey! "I know nothing about it," said Priam doggedly.
But I daresay you know nothing about it, poor, dear mamma. Can Jeffries go on horseback with a note?" "Oh, my dear, Jefferies is not here, and the dealer has taken the horses. But some one could go for us from Leek's farm. The Arrowpoints are at Quetcham, I know. Miss Arrowpoint left her card the other day: I could not see her. But I don't know about Herr Klesmer.
Even without an inquest, he saw that the affair would be unthinkably distressing. He felt that it would kill him, and he put his hand to his face. "Where are Mr. Farll's relatives to be found?" the doctor asked. "Mr. Farll's relatives?" Priam Farll repeated without comprehending. Then he understood. Dr. Cashmore thought that Henry Leek's name was Farll!
But it appeared to him very remarkable that so much could happen, in so short a time, as the result of a mere momentary impulsive prevarication. A Pail Sticking out of the pocket of Leek's light overcoat was a folded copy of the Daily Telegraph.
When he hit on the desk, which was hidden behind a screen of elm-trees, he had to face a true aristocrat and not in muslins, either. If the others were the daughters of earls, this was the authentic countess in a tea-gown. He put down Leek's sovereign. "Haven't you anything smaller?" snapped the countess. "I'm sorry I haven't," he replied.
Oxford's attire and complexion caused Priam to look rather shabby. Indeed, he was rather shabby. Shabbiness had slightly overtaken him in Putney. Once he had been a dandy; but that was in the lamented Leek's time.
Henry Leek's skin was indeed bluish, though, besides blankets, there was a considerable apparatus of rugs on the bed, and the night was warm. But he made no movement, uttered no word, at sight of the doctor; just stared, dully. His own difficult breathing alone seemed to interest him. "Any women up?" The doctor turned suddenly and fiercely on Priam Farll, who started.
The elk lost all fear, partly because they were not attacked, and they surrounded the log-enclosed haystacks, barns and houses, mutely begging for food. Previous to the winter of 1911, thousands of weak calves and cows perished around the haystacks. Mr. S.N. Leek's wonderful pictures tell a thrilling but very sad story.
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