United States or Zimbabwe ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !


On the Wednesday morning, in the middle of lessons, a footman came from the duke to ask Pollyooly to go to him at once. She went wondering, and found him in the smoking-room in a panic. As she entered he waved a telegram at her and said: "Here's a new mess. Lord Ronald Ricksborough you know him he's my heir, you know always spends his holidays at the court.

The detective guarded the window while the lawyer sprang lithely round the house, through the front door, and into the room. "Thank goodness! I've caught your ladyship at last!" he cried. Pollyooly scowled at him and said nothing. It was her habit in the part of Lady Marion Ricksborough to give herself airs. He snatched his watch from his pocket and cried: "Oh, hang it!

Of course you can say that your Marion is Lady Marion Ricksborough; and I shall say that mine is. And some people will believe you, but most people will believe me. And of course I shall settle a good lump sum on Mary Bride when she marries, and leave her all the unentailed property." "Oh, but it's impossible!" cried the duchess writhing in her chair.

"It all depends on whether Mary Bride can take Marion's place," said the duke somewhat anxiously. The Honourable John Ruffin looked at him queerly. It was not for him to say that Pollyooly had already spent a fortnight at Ricksborough Court as Lady Marion and that during that fortnight the duke had been as completely duped as his household. He only said: "It isn't Pollyooly I'm doubtful about.

She promoted him to the use of his proper Christian name, and called him Roger. The duke had grown calm once more, and read a four-penny-half-penny magazine with every appearance of absorbed interest. In the motor car which carried them from Ricksborough station to the court, Pollyooly insisted on having the Lump on her knee.

The upshot of the law proceedings had been that the Court, with a futility almost fatuous, had ordered the duchess to return to her husband, and, what was far more important, had given the custody of their little daughter of twelve, Lady Marion Ricksborough, to the duke. The Anglo-Saxon peoples felt that the duke had scored heavily; and the duchess agreed with them.

Three days later Pollyooly and Ronald stood by a gate at the end of the home wood, awaiting the coming of the motor car, in which the Honourable John Ruffin was bringing the real Lady Marion Ricksborough to slip quietly into the place which Pollyooly had occupied with such signal success.

"You?" said the Honourable John Ruffin very doubtfully. "I don't think that would do at all. You see there was that business of his kidnapping you in Piccadilly and carrying you off to Ricksborough House. He's not at all the kind of man to forget that he played the fool and had to pay you six pounds for doing it." "But, please, sir, that wasn't my fault," said Pollyooly. "No: it was his.

Pollyooly and he had lodged with her before they had gone to live in the King's Bench Walk, and Mrs. Brown had grown very fond of him. She had taken charge of him during the time Pollyooly had spent at Ricksborough Court and was delighted to have him with her again.

"I don't," said the duke firmly; then yet more plaintively he added: "Oh, it's a dog's life for a man trying to run places like Ricksborough House and the court on his own!" "I expect it does try you a bit too high," said the Honourable John Ruffin. "It would any man," said the duke with conviction.