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Updated: May 8, 2025
"I wanted an elegant name for him and I always think two names are so elegant for a firm " "Bloodsucker and Noodle are mine," said Lord Tybar in a very gloomy voice; and they laughed. " So I called him Derry and Toms." Sabre pointed out that this still left her own possession of the word unexplained. "Oh, Marko, you're dreadfully matter-of-fact. You always were.
As I was coming away yesterday I passed that Lady Tybar going in, and I told her what I'd been saying to him and what he remembered and what he didn't remember.... What's that got to do with it? Well, you wait and see, my boy. You wait and see.
I only came over to-day." How funny her voice was. "Nona, you look ill. You sound ill. What's up? Is anything wrong?" She said, "Oh, Marko, Tony's killed." "Nona!" ... That came careering headlong, as though malignity, bitter and wanton, had loosed a savage bolt. Tybar killed! The cab was away and he was standing there. Tybar killed. She had said they were hurrying to Scotland, to Tony's home.
Tybar says he hopes the angels were near him, because he thought he was in hell, the particular bit he got into, and he thinks it must be good for angels, enlarging for their minds, to know what hell is like! As a matter of fact, Tybar himself is nearer to the superhuman than anything I saw knocking about at Mons.
They understood less than anybody how they ever came to be there, and they knew perfectly well they would be turned off one day; saying which and it was a common subject of debate among village sires of a summer evening, seated outside the Tybar Arms saying which, the Wirk of the day would gaze earnestly up the road and look at his watch as if the power which would turn him off was then on its way and was getting a bit overdue.
I've told you in my letters how he went on after that collapse, that brain hemorrhage. I told you we got Ormond Clive on to him. I told you we got him up here eventually to Clive's own nursing home in Welbeck Place. Clive was a friend of that Lady Tybar. She was with Sabre all the time he was in Queer Street and it was queer, I give you my word. Pretty well every day I'd look in.
Now seeing her, thus unexpectedly and thus gallantly environed, his mind, with that astonishing precision of detail and capriciousness of selection with which the mind retains pictures, reproduced certain masculine discussion of her looks at a time when, as Nona Holiday of Chovensbury Court, daughter of Sir Hadden Holiday, M.P. for Tidborough, she had contributed to local gossip by becoming engaged to Lord Tybar.
Why, Tony and I get fond of a word and then we have it for our own, whichever of us it is, and use it for everything. And elegant's mine just now. I'm dreadfully fond of it. It's so well, elegant: there you are, you see!" Lord Tybar announced that he had just become attached to a new word and desired to possess it. He was going to have blood. "You see, if I live by sucking blood "
"Old man, I went along to the Royal with this Lady Tybar. Told her who I was and what I knew. Talk to me ... I tell you what I thought about that woman while she talked. I thought, leaving out limelight beauty, and classic beauty and all the beauty you can see in a frame presented as such; leaving out that, because it wasn't there, I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
Oh, dash it Tybar. I never reproached her, not by a look. I saw her point of view. My infernal failing, even then. Not by a look I ever reproached her. I thought I'd forgotten it, absolutely. But I haven't. It came out in that moment that I haven't. 'The life you've taken! I meant it to sting. Damn me, it did sting. That look she gave! As if I had struck her. What rot! How could it sting her?
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