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Updated: June 6, 2025
Not that he was not proud of Seabrook & Clifford. No factories were run on better lines; there was nothing in their administration to hide up or apologise for, while "Seacliff Fabrics" were of an excellence recognised throughout England and the colonies. Only their designs were old-fashioned, the honoured firm had not moved with the times, as others and often less worthy competitors had done.
While this conversation was in progress, Lord Seacliff was enjoying a refreshing sleep in his room on the fourth floor. Two hours passed. The noise of the traffic in the street below faded away. Only the rattle of an occasional belated cab broke the silence. In the hotel all was still. Mr. Brewster had gone to bed. Archie, in his room, smoked meditatively. Peace may have been said to reign.
The old egg got a bit of shrapnel in his foot or something, didn't he? Anyhow, I remember he was sent home." "His foot is perfectly well again now. But, unfortunately, the enforced inaction led to disastrous results. You recollect, no doubt, that Seacliff always had a a tendency; a a weakness it was a family failing " "Mopping it up, do you mean? Shifting it?
"Who's this man Seacliff?" he demanded, without preamble. "I hear he's a friend of yours." "Oh, you've met him, what?" said Archie. "Had a nice little chat together, yes? Talked of this and that, no!" "We have not said a word to each other." "Really? Oh, well, dear old Squiffy is one of those strong, silent fellers you know. You mustn't mind if he's a bit dumb.
"I am sending Seacliff round to the Cosmopolis to-night. I am sure you, will do everything you can. Good-bye, my boy, good-bye." Archie continued his walk. This, he felt, was beginning to be a bit thick. He smiled a bitter, mirthless smile as he recalled the fact that less than half an hour had elapsed since he had expressed a regret that he did not belong to the ranks of those who do things.
"Suddenly another sound became audible a very gentle, soothing sound, like that of a small jet of steam escaping continuously from a kettle." Lord Seacliff looked up from his book with a start Imagination was beginning to play him tricks. He could have sworn that he had actually heard that identical sound. It had seemed to come from the window. He listened again. No! All was still.
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