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Updated: May 4, 2025
But I think that he was a little unsettled by fear. He did not explain, however, only bidding me shudderingly, "not to come at him that way again!" So I promised I would not, all the more readily that I heard him muttering to himself, "I thought he had me that time yes, sure!" Then I knew that he too was afraid of the man who called himself Wringham Pollixfen Poole and had killed the real Mr.
But, poring over the mystery afterwards, and putting all things carefully together, I became convinced that, under the name of Wringham Pollixfen Poole, Mr. Richard had mixed himself up in some highly treasonable business, which put his life within the power of the informer and traitor Lalor.
At any rate he missed his stroke. But it was only by a hair's breadth, and had it not been for his own sword and my fleetness of foot, the false Wringham Pollixfen might for the second time have vanished as completely as before, while if Louis had died, no one would have suspected as his murderer a man so important as his Excellency Lalor Maitland, Member of Parliament for the county, and presently carrying out the commission of the lieges within the precincts of the city of Westminster.
And where it stood the full-rounded corn-stacks almost lean against the blind wall, so that the maids will not pass that way unattended for fear of Wringham Pollixfen, or poor hot-blooded, turbulent Richard, his victim, or perhaps more exactly the victim of his own unstable will. And as for Irma, years have not aged her. She has the invincible gift of youth, of lightsome, winsome, buoyant youth.
His loaded riding whip was flung in a corner. The window was wide open, and the night black and quiet without. Sweet odours of flowers came in from the little garden. The lamp burned peacefully and nothing in the room was disturbed. But Mr. Wringham Pollixfen was not there, and when we touched him, Mr. Richard Poole was dead, his head dropped upon his arms. The loop of the riding-whip on Mr.
And this to hold good whatever may be the outcome of this interview with the person calling himself Wringham Pollixfen Poole, "For Smart, Poole and Smart, "R. Poole." He handed the paper across to my grandmother, in whom he easily recognized the ruling spirit of the household. "There, madam," he said, "that will put matters on a right basis with my firm whatever may happen to me.
Of course I thought at once of the murderer Wringham Pollixfen lurking catlike among the office-houses in the hope of striking again, perhaps at Miss Irma perhaps, also, as I now see, at Sir Louis. But indeed I never thought of him, at least not at the time. It was not the pretended Poole, however.
"Friend of mine!" cried the big man, "no, by no means a friend but, as it may chance, some sort of kin. However that may be, if you have indeed got Pollixfen safe, you have done the best day's work that ever you did for yourself and for King George, God bless him!" "Say you so?" said my grandfather. "Indeed, I rejoice me to hear it. I have ever been a loyal subject.
Wringham Pollixfen Poole upon it, he absolutely broke into a hurricane of laughter, which, however, sounded to me not a little forced and hollow though he slapped his leg so loud and hard that the little man in the dressing-gown stopped open-mouthed and dropped his poker on the floor.
Wringham Pollixfen Poole, that expert with the loaded riding-whip. We had been far too busy with our own affairs the marriage, the little house, my work at the Review, and more recently the appearance and providing for of Duncan the Second. We had seen Louis on Saturdays, and on Sundays, too, at times.
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