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Updated: July 19, 2025
Vellacott," continued the Jesuit, reseating himself, "I must beg your attention. I think there can be no harm in a little mutual frankness, and and it seems to me that a certain allowance for respective circumstances can well be demanded." He paused, and opening the leather-bound manuscript book, became absorbed for a moment in the perusal of one of its pages.
Christian Vellacott, seated upon the rail of the after-deck, saw the old man and watched him with some interest not, however, altering his position or changing countenance. The vessels moved slowly on, and, in due course, the two men were opposite to each other, each at the extreme stern of his ship.
After this short halt the carriage made its way rapidly inland. Thus they travelled through the fair Breton country together, these two strangely contrasting men brought together by a chain of circumstances of which the links were the merest coincidences. Christian Vellacott did not appear to chafe against his confinement.
The bright brown sails, low hulls, and gaily painted spars of the barges dropping down with the stream added to the beauty of the scene. Such was the morning that greeted Christian Vellacott, as he opened the door of his little Chelsea home and stepped forth a free man.
He is pointing you out to the station-master." As he spoke the cart swung round the gate-post of the station yard, nearly throwing him out, and Sidney's right hand felt for the whip-socket. "There," he said, "we are safe. I think I can manage that fly." Mr. Bodery settled himself and drew the dust-cloth over his chubby knees. "Now," he said, "tell me all about Vellacott." Sidney did so.
He acceded to Rene Drucquer's prayer to telegraph for Christian Vellacott. And now Vellacott was actually coming down the cabin stairs. He entered the cabin and stood by the sick man's bed. "Ah, you have come," said the Frenchman, with that peculiar tone of pathetic humour which can only be rendered in the language that he spoke. "But how old! Do I look as old as that, I wonder?
He was still rising to the occasion this dull young Briton. Then he turned. "Christian Vellacott," he said; "you knew his father?" "Ah, yes: I knew his father." Sidney was moving to the door without any hurry, and also without any intention of being deterred. "His father," continued the Vicomte, winding his watch meditatively, "was brilliant. Has the son inherited any brain?" "I think so.
Christian Vellacott was apparently unconscious of the humour of the situation. He was working patiently and steadily, as men must needs work when fighting Nature, and his half-forgotten sea-craft was already coming back.
"What is the meaning of this?" he exclaimed huskily. The sub-editor looked up sharply, with his pen poised in the air. Then Mr. Bodery read: "Is Vellacott with you? Fear something wrong. Disappeared from here last night." Mr. Morgan moved in his seat, stretching one arm out, while he pensively rubbed his clean-shaven chin and looked critically across the table. "Who is it from?" he asked.
As he brushed his hat he looked towards his companion and said: "That young fellow is worth you and me rolled into one." "I recognised that fact some years ago," replied the sub-editor, wiping his pen on his coat. "It is humiliating, but true. Ha, ha!" Christian Vellacott soon descended the dingy stairs and joined the westward-wending throng in the Strand.
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