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Updated: May 27, 2025
Gallosh; and, in fact, I often tell Tulliwuddle that people will think me more English than himself. The German fashions so much in vogue at Court are transforming the very speech of your nobility. Don't you sometimes notice it?" Thus directly appealed to, Mr. Gallosh became manifestly perplexed. "Yes yes, you're right in a way," he pronounced cautiously. "I suppose they do that.
G. has screwed him up to this," said the Count to himself. Aloud, he asked with his blandest air "Was not Lord Tulliwuddle available himself?" "No; he's gone out." "Alone?" "No, not alone." "In brief, with Miss Gallosh?" "Quite so; and what'll he be saying to her?" "He is a man of such varied information that it's hard to guess." "From all I hear, there's not been much variety so far," said Mr.
His friend Tulliwuddle looked at him with marked displeasure, yet seemed to find some difficulty in adequately expressing it. "I do not care for vat you said," he remarked stiffly. "Nor for ze look now on your face." "Baron," said the Count imperturbably, "what did you tell me the Wraith said to you something about 'Beware of the ladies, wasn't it?" "You do not onderstand.
"As announced in our marriage column, the wedding took place yesterday, privately, of Lord Tulliwuddle, kinsman and heir of the late peer of that name, so well known in London and Scottish society, and Miss Constance Herringay, better known as 'Connie Fitz Aubyn, of the Gaiety Theatre. It is understood that the young couple have departed for the Mediterranean."
Yet the Count kept an anxious eye upon him. He was becoming decidedly restless. At one moment he would rave about the glorious scenery; the next, plunge into a brown study of the Tulliwuddle rent-roll; and then in an instant start humming an air and smoking so fast that both their cases were empty while they were yet half an hour from Torrydhulish Station.
And oh, to think of marrying a gentle thing like that! Is Lord Tulliwuddle a firm man, Count Bunker?" "Adamant when in the right," the Count assured her. A renewed air of happy musing in her eyes warned him that he had probably said exactly enough, and with the happiest mean betwixt deference and dignity he bade them farewell.
The fact that she knew Tulliwuddle to be an existing peerage afforded her some relief; yet the longer she pondered on the problem of Rudolph's part in the episode, the more uneasy grew her mind. Composing her face before the mirror till it resumed its normal round-eyed placidity, she locked the letter and its contents in a safe place, and sought out her mother.
"Another Lord Tulliwuddle?" inquired the millionaire. "Zey have made a mistake mit ze name. Yes, zat is how." "Can it be possible?" cried Eleanor eagerly, her grief for the moment forgotten. "No," said her father; "it is not possible. The announcement is confirmed by the paragraph. A mistake is inconceivable." The Baron thought he perceived a brilliant idea.
His thoughts must have gone astray, for he turned by accident into the wrong room a small apartment hardly used at all; and before he had time to turn back he stopped petrified at the sight of a picture on the wall. There could be no mistake it was the original of that ill-omened print he had seen in the Edinburgh hotel, "The Execution of Lord Tulliwuddle." The actual title was there plain to see.
Had the occasion been more propitious, the Count could scarcely have refrained from commenting upon this remarkably republican criticism; but, as it was, he deemed it more advisable to hunt with the hounds. "That canaille!" he shouted. "Ha, ha! Lord Tulliwuddle would never so far demean himself!" "I have it from old Gallosh himself," declared Mr. Maddison.
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