United States or Réunion ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
And then Roscoe Sherriff came down, and Dudley Pickering, who for days had been using all his resolution to struggle against the siren, suddenly found that there was no siren to struggle against. No sooner had the press agent appeared than Claire deserted him shamelessly and absolutely. She walked with Roscoe Sherriff.
Felgate mentally abused him for his pusillanimity, but saw no reason, for all that, for not turning the incident to account. He proclaimed poor Sherriffs wrongs to a few of the other malcontents. "It's hard lines," said he, "that just because of this wretched rule, Sherriff is to lose his scholarship.
She went into the drawing-room, where she found Roscoe Sherriff strumming on the piano. 'Eustace has been raising Cain, she said. The Press-agent looked up hopefully. He had been wearing a rather preoccupied air. 'How's that? he asked. 'Throwing eggs and plates in the kitchen. The gleam of interest which had come into Roscoe Sherriff's face died out.
"It's not a bad rule on the whole, I fancy," said Sherriff; "but it comes a little rough on me just now." "My dear fellow, we're not quite slaves here; and if it doesn't suit you to go down on your knees to an antiquated rule of this kind, then you're not the fellow I take you for if you do it. It hasn't suited me often enough, and I've not been such a muff as to think twice about it."
Mr Pickering quivered with combined fear and excitement and inductive reasoning. 'It was a trick! he cried. 'Remember what Sherriff said that night when I told you about finding the man looking in at the window? He said that the fellow was spying round as a preliminary move. To-day he trumps up an obviously false excuse for getting into the house. Was he left alone in the rooms at all? 'Yes.
The house was a large one, capable of receiving a big party, but she did not wish to entertain on an ambitious scale. The only other guest she proposed to put up was Roscoe Sherriff, her press agent, who was to come down as soon as he could get away from his metropolitan duties. It was a pleasant and romantic place, the estate which Lady Wetherby had rented.
Fine! It might have consoled Lord Dawlish somewhat, as he lay awake that night, to have known that the man who had taken Claire from him though at present he was not aware of such a man's existence also slept ill. Lady Wetherby sat in her room, writing letters. The rest of the household were variously employed. Roscoe Sherriff was prowling about the house, brooding on campaigns of publicity.
Must have been one of the gang that's been working down here, said Roscoe Sherriff. 'There might be a quarter of a column in that, properly worked, but I guess I'd better wait until he actually does bust the place. 'We must notify the police! 'Notify the police, and have them butt in and stop the thing and kill a good story! There was honest amazement in the Press-agent's voice.
She had me wedged in an orchestra-stall before I knew what I was up against, and then it was too late. I remember reading in some journal or other that she had a pet snake, given her by some Russian prince or other, what?" "That," said Sherriff, "was the impression I intended to convey when I sent the story to the papers. I'm her Press-agent.
In course we didn' b'leeve that. Squire ain't no gol darned fool, ez that would make him aout ter be. He knowd the men ez stopped the courts las' week wouldn' be afeard o' stoppin a sherriff. He knows the folks be in arnest 'baout hevin an eend on sewin an sellin an sendin tew jail. Squire knows, an ye all know that thar'll be fightin fore thar's any more sellin."
Word Of The Day