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Updated: June 6, 2025
Several weeks had now passed by since the bustle of departure was over, and, though no direct intelligence had come from the absentees, a rumor had somehow spread abroad that the expected run of goods was to be one of the largest ever made in Polperro.
They drove straightway to Lowndes Mansions. The movement of the vehicle made Lord Polperro drowsy. In ten minutes he seemed to be asleep, and Gammon had to catch his hat as it was falling forward. When the four-wheeler jolted more than usual he uttered groans; once he shouted loudly, and for a moment stared about him in terror.
They had spent an afternoon and a night at Polperro, and the sun shone in the morning on that incredible place as they rode out of it after breakfast. Polperro shakes the soul and the æsthetic nerves like a glass of old wine; no one can survey it unmoved, or leave it as he entered it, any more than you can come out of a fairy ring as you went in.
M. Polperro evidently insisted on an exceptional standard of cleanliness for his household. Sylvia felt fresh and well. The languor induced by the heat of Paris had left her. There seemed no reason why she should not get up too, and even go out of doors if so the fancy pleased her.
"Uncommonly awkward, though she gained her case for all that. Polperro, it seems, had a shady reputation heavy drinker, and so on. There were strong characteristics some peculiarity of the nose. The old chap used to say that there was the nose of the Bourbons and the nose of the Trefoyles, his family name." "What name?" "Trefoyle. Cornish, you know. Rum lot they always seem to have been.
"So well as I can learn, 'tis a place called Polperro." Jacka chuckled. "Seen anything of a party called Job?" "He's to bring me six hundred pounds before morning," answered the Dutchman, lighting his pipe. "And see here I'm a fair-dealin' man, and I own I owe you a good twenty of it. You shall have it when you leave the ship, and I'll chance making it right with the owners."
Mrs. Bailey had never questioned any of the extras Madame Polperro put in her weekly bills, and she had never become haggard and cross as other ladies did who lost money at the Casino. As he turned over the papers bills, catalogues, and letters with which the table was covered, these thoughts flitted regretfully through M. Polperro's mind.
"Shall we go in and find out the time of the Swiss express?" he asked the other man, "or perhaps you have already decided on a train?" "No, I haven't looked one out yet." They strolled off together towards the house, and Sylvia walked blindly on to the grass and sat down on one of the rocking-chairs of which M. Polperro was so proud.
"All right," said Jerrem doggedly, while Joan slid back the seat of the settle, turned down a flap in the wall, and discovered the hole in which Jerrem was to lie concealed. "There! there ain't another hidin'-place like that in all Polperro," she said. "They may send a whole reg'ment o' sodgers afore a man among 'em 'ull pitch on 'ee there, Jerrem."
I mentioned the name. It was as I thought. I had, you know, a vague recollection of Quodling as connected with a lawsuit when I was a boy. Beeching could tell me all about it." "Well, what was it?" "Queer story. A Mrs. Quodling, a widow, or believed to be a widow, came in for a large sum of money under the will of Lord Polperro, the second baron uncle, I am told, of his present lordship.
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