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Updated: June 7, 2025
"You wrote to Lord Southbourne," I interrupted bluntly. "And you sent him a portrait, a woman's portrait that poor Carson had been carrying about in his breast-pocket. Now why did you do that? And who is the woman?" His answer was startling. "I sent it to him to enable him to recognize her, and warn her if he could find her.
I was taken straight to Lord Southbourne's sanctum, a handsomely furnished, but almost ostentatiously business-like apartment. Southbourne himself, seated at a big American desk, was making hieroglyphics on a sheet of paper before him while he dictated rapidly to Harding, his private secretary, who manipulated a typewriter close by.
Therefore I was considerably surprised when, some hours afterwards, instead of Jim Cayley, whom I was expecting every moment, Lord Southbourne himself was brought up to the cell, one of those kept for prisoners on remand, a small bare room, but comfortable enough, and representing the acme of luxury in comparison with the crowded den in which I had been thrown in Petersburg.
'Young man, I have no wish to be hard on a congenital idiot who is not responsible for his actions, but I must insist on an explanation. I understand that you are in charge of the correspondence in this office. Well, during the last week you have three times sent unstamped letters to my fiancee, Miss Vera Delane, Woodlands, Southbourne, Hants. What's the matter with you?
Whoever had written it, Southbourne himself probably, had laid it on pretty thick about the special correspondents of The Courier obtaining "at the risk of their lives the exclusive information on which the public had learned to rely," and a lot more rot of that kind, together with a highly complimentary précis of my career, and a hint that before long a full account of my thrilling experiences would be published exclusively in The Courier.
"You went back to Russia in search of me! I was quite sure of it in my mind, though Mary declared you were off on another special correspondent affair for Lord Southbourne, and he said the same; he's rather a nice man, isn't he, and Lady Southbourne's a dear! But I knew somehow he wasn't speaking the truth. And you've been in the wars, you poor boy!
I asked Freeman to wire or 'phone to you yesterday when we arrived, thinking, of course, you'd be at Chelsea; then Southbourne turned up, and was awfully good. He's arranged for my defence, so there's nothing more to be done at present. The case will come before the magistrate to-morrow; so far as I'm concerned I'd rather it had come on to-day.
If you do, send him and be damned to you both!" I retorted hotly. "Look here, Lord Southbourne; Carson never failed in his duty, I'd stake my life on that! And I'll not allow you, or any man, to sneer at him when he's dead and can't defend himself!" Southbourne dropped his cigarette and stared at me, a dusky flush rising under his sallow skin.
The early tracery of the windows should be noticed. The addition of transepts and the enlargement of the chancel about 1250 made the church an exceptionally large structure for the originally small village. Southbourne, one and a half miles south-west of Christchurch, will soon become a mere outer suburb of Bournemouth.
It almost touches Boscombe, that eastern extension of the great town that has sprung into being within the last fifty years. Southbourne is said to be bracing; it is certainly a great contrast to the bustle and glitter of its great neighbour.
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