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'I'll put 'em on, Sir, in your very presence, says 'Op, 'only 'ear my prayer, or words to that 'fect.... It was jus' the same with me when I called our Sergeant a bladder-bellied, lard-'eaded, perspirin' pension-cheater. They on'y put on the charge-sheet 'words to that effect, Spoiled the 'ole 'fect." "'Op! 'Op! 'Op! What about 'Op?" thundered Pyecroft. "'Op? Oh, shame thing.
"An' you a family man, too," muttered Pyecroft, swinging himself into the right rear seat. "Sure to be a remarkably hectic day when we meet." We adjusted ourselves and, in the language of the immortal Navy doctor, paved our way towards Linghurst, distant by mile-post 11-3/4 miles. Mr. Hinchcliffe, every nerve and muscle braced, talked only to the engineer, and that professionally.
"And yet you were afraid to come into the Nightmare's engine-room when we were runnin' trials!" "It's all a matter of taste," Pyecroft volunteered. "But I will say for you, Hinch, you've certainly got the hang of her steamin' gadgets in quick time." He was driving her very sweetly, but with a worried look in his eye and a tremor in his arm. "She don't seem so answer her helm somehow," he said.
It was understood that he was waiting an almost certain call from a church in Kansas City. As Mrs. De Peyster came out of her room that first Sunday at supper-time, there emerged from the room in front of hers the Reverend Mr. Pyecroft. He held out his hand, and smiled parochially.
De Peyster turned in her chair, and held her breath, like one beneath the guillotine. Matilda arose, shaking. "Who's this man, Matilda?" Jack continued. "He ah er he's " "And, pray, Matilda, who is this?" politely inquired the arisen Mr. Pyecroft, blandly assuming command of the situation. "Who am I? Well, you certainly have nerve " the astounded Jack was beginning. "He's Mr.
Pyecroft, "permit me to preface what I have to say by touching upon two necessary personal details. First, I believe, at least, you, Mr. Mayfair, have known me as Mr. Simpson, brother of Mrs. De Peyster's housekeeper. I am not her brother.
De Peyster's housekeeper entertaining for the summer her brother, sister, and niece." Mr. Mayfair grinned, ever so little. "You've got some sense of humor, old top," he approved dryly. "Thank you," said Mr. Pyecroft, with a gratified air. He led Mr. Mayfair past the room within which Jack was hidden, down to the servants' door and courteously let him out. Two minutes later Mr.
Stack o' brushwood on the starboard beam, and no road," sang Pyecroft. "Cr-r-ri-key!" said Hinchcliffe, as the car on a wild cant to the left went astern, screwing herself round the angle of a track that overhung the pond. "If she only had two propellers, I believe she'd talk poetry. She can do everything else." "We're rather on our port wheels now," said Kysh; "but I don't think she'll capsize.
'It was like nightmares, he said. 'It was like nightmares. 'Once more, then, Pyecroft swept on, 'we returned to the hotel and partook of a sumptuous repast, under the able and genial chairmanship of our Mr. Morshed, who laid his projecks unreservedly before us.
The hardly-checked fury on Hinchcliffe's brow had given place to a greasy imbecility, and he nodded over the steering-bar. In longs and shorts, as laid down by the pious and immortal Mr. Morse, Pyecroft tapped out, "Sham drunk. Get him in the car." "I can't stay here all day," said the constable. Pyecroft raised his head.
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