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George lived at his club in town on an allowance of six hundred a year, and sat a great deal in a bay-window reading Ruff's "Guide to the Turf." He raised his eyes from the menu and looked stealthily round. Helen Bellew was talking to his father, her white shoulder turned a little away. George was proud of his composure, but there was a strange longing in his face.
These, with Ruff's Guide, the Racing Calendar, and a few volumes on farriery, supplied Mr. Armstrong's literary necessities. But to Clarissa, for whom books were at once the pleasure and consolation of life, this library seemed a treasure-house of inexhaustible delights. Her father's collection was of the choicest, but limited.
At the same time, five thousand pounds is an excellent sum. We must see what can be done." Peter Ruff's method of seeing what could be done was at first the very obvious one of seeking to discover any incidents in the past of the person known as Teddy Jones likely to reflect present discredit upon him if brought to light.
Then she caught sight of a certain expression on Peter Ruff's face, and she looked at him wonderingly. "Is anything wrong, Peter?" she asked. "No," he answered, "I cannot say that anything is wrong. I have had an invitation to present myself before a certain society in Paris of which you have some indirect knowledge. What the summons means I cannot say." "Yet you go?" she exclaimed.
It had been the study of Peter Ruff's life, so far as possible, to maintain under all circumstances an equable temperament, to refuse to recognize the meaning of the word "nerves," and to be guided in all his actions by that profound common sense which was one of his natural gifts. Yet there were times when, like any other ordinary person, he suffered acutely from presentiments.
I am not so poor as I was. I have my check-book in my pocket, and a larger balance in the bank now than I have ever had before. If I write you a check for, say, a hundred no, two! five!" he cried, desperately, watching Peter Ruff's unchanging face "five hundred pounds, will you come round with me to Sir Richard's house in a hansom at once?" Peter Ruff shook his head.
Together he and Antoine descended to the street. "Mind," Peter Ruff whispered, "I consider that accounts are squared between me and 'Double-Four' now. Let them know that. This sort of thing isn't in my line." "For an amateur," Antoine said, bowing low, "Monsieur commands my heartfelt congratulations!" In these days, the duties of Miss Brown as Peter Ruff's secretary had become multifarious.
"Very good, sir," the man answered. "How long am I to wait here for you?" Peter Ruff's lips twisted into a curious little smile. "Until two o'clock," he answered. "If I am not out by then, you needn't bother any more about me. You can return and tell your mistress exactly what has happened." "Hadn't I better come and try and get you out, sir?" the man asked.
Lemprise," Peter Ruff added, "we will trouble you to change places." "What do you mean?" the man called out, suddenly pale as death. He was held as though in a vice. John Dory's arm was through his on one side, and Peter Ruff's on the other. Apart from that, the muzzle of a revolver was pressed to his forehead. "On second thoughts," Peter Ruff said, "I think we will keep you like this.
Crittenden's brigade of dismounted cavalry reported to me for temporary duty as infantry with my division. On the 1st of July Hascall's division was relieved by the extension of Hooker's corps, and Schofield with his whole corps in hand advanced a mile upon the Marietta road toward Ruff's Mill.
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