United States or Ethiopia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Yes, the tall one towards Sprotsfield, the short one back towards Inkston." "Oh, the short stumpy one it was who turned back to Inkston?" Beaumaroy had seated himself on a low three-legged stool, opposite to the big chair where Alec sat, and was smoking his pipe, his hands clasped round his knees. "It doesn't seem to me to come to much, though I'm much obliged to you all the same.
"Well, we can't sit here all night," said the stranger in good-humored impatience. "I've a train to catch." "There's no train up from here to-night." "There is from Sprotsfield. I shall walk over." The Sergeant smiled. "Oh, if you're walking to Sprotsfield, I'll put you on your way.
She laid her information before an attentive, if not very respectful, audience gathered round the tea-table at Old Place, the Naylors' handsome house on the outskirts of Sprotsfield and on the far side of the heath from Inkston. She was enjoying herself, although she was, as usual, a trifle distrustful of the quality of Mr. Naylor's smile; it smacked of the satiric.
Naylor, for his part, stopped roving. The door again! "Come in, Mr. Beaumaroy here's tea." Mr. Beaumaroy obediently entered, in the wake of Captain Alec Naylor, who duly presented him to Mrs. Naylor, adding that Beaumaroy had been kind enough to make the fourth in a game with the General, the Rector of Sprotsfield, and himself.
This had been Alec Naylor's first remark when the Rector of Sprotsfield pointed him out, as a possible fourth, at the golf club, and the rough justice of the description could not be denied. He, like Alec, bore his scars; the little finger of his right hand was amputated down to the knuckle.
"The Sergeant has picked out a big clump of trees, a hundred yards from the cottage on the Sprotsfield side, and about thirty yards from the road. Pretty clear going to it, bar the bracken she'll do it easily. There she'll lie, snug as you like. As we go by Sprotsfield, the car won't have to pass the Cottage at all that's an advantage and yet it's not over far to carry the stuff."
But that did not excuse his prejudice against soldiers. They passed through the outskirts of Sprotsfield; Mike to use his more familiar name had made a thorough exploration of the place, and his directions enabled his chauffeur to avoid the central and populous parts of the town.
For four or five minutes the stranger made his examination. Then he turned off his torch. "Looks easy," he remarked, "but of course there's the garrison." Once more he turned on his light, to look at his watch. "Can't stop now, or I shall miss the train, and I don't want to have to get a bed at Sprotsfield. A strayed reveler on Christmas night might be too well remembered. Got an address?"
Bennett and he himself made unauthorized entry thereon. "He's a hot 'un in a scrap," said the Sergeant, sitting in a public house at Sprotsfield on Boxing Day evening, Mr. Bennett and sundry other excursionists from London being present. "My chauffeur will settle him," said Mr. Bennett. It may seem odd that Mr.
It was only after he had done this with great deliberation that he observed good-naturedly, "And you go to hell, Mike! It's dark, ain't it? That's a bit of all right." He did not speak again till they were near Sprotsfield. "This Beaumaroy queer name, ain't it? he's a big chap, ain't he, Mike?" "Pretty fair, but, Lord love you, a baby beside yourself." "Oh, that's Naylor Captain Naylor.