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Updated: May 31, 2025
Wrapped in a huge overcoat, with a cap buttoned around his ears and a scarf nearly up to his mouth, Crawshay stood there, seeking admittance. "I am exceedingly fortunate to find you both here," the newcomer observed, as he removed his cap. "Captain, may I have a few minutes' conversation with you and Mr. Dix?"
"Don't you worry," Hobson replied. "Jocelyn Thew could hold his own at any court in Europe with any of you embassy swaggerers. There's nothing known about his family, but they say that his father was an English aristocrat, and he looks like it, too." "It was you yourself who called him a criminal, the first time you spoke of him," Crawshay reminded his companion.
"I have no desire for a chat with any one," Crawshay objected. "I came up on deck to rest. Kindly ask me what you want to know and leave me alone for a time." "Then what in thunder sent you here after an American liner on a seaplane?" Brand demanded. "That's about the long and short of what we're aching to know, I think." "You've hit it, Ned, as usual," Mr.
Crawshay looked into the black eyes, suddenly lit with an ugly fire, and nodded. "I understand," he said. "Robins, your name, eh? Any relation to the young Sinn Feiner who was shot in Dublin a few months ago?" "Brother." "That may save your life later on," Crawshay observed coolly. "Now you can do one of three things.
"Do I know you, sir?" he asked. "I am not so sure that you do," Jocelyn replied, "but after yesterday the whole world knows Mr. Reginald Crawshay." "Very kind of you, I am sure," Crawshay murmured. "What I did really wasn't worth making a fuss about." "You had an uncomfortable ride, I fear?" Jocelyn continued. "I was most unsuitably attired," Crawshay hastened to explain.
If the third person is a stranger, try and find out his name." "I'll manage that all right, Mr. Brightman. The young lady has just come down. I'll be getting back into the lounge." Brightman turned around to Crawshay, who was in the act of shaking the cocktails. "A third party," he observed. "Interesting," Crawshay declared, "very interesting! Perhaps the intermediary.
Crawshay at all," she confessed. "My acquaintance with him before we met on this steamer was of the slightest, but his manner of coming certainly led one to believe that he was a man of courage and determination. Since then he has crawled about in an overcoat and rubber shoes, and groaned about his ailments until one feels inclined to laugh at him. Last night he was different again.
"Kind of shock to you yesterday, no doubt," Brand began. "It was a fine, plucky thing to do, sir. Ever flown before?" "Never," Crawshay confessed. "The sensation was er entirely new to me. I found the descent upon the water most uncomfortable." "Soaked your shore clothes, eh?" Brand observed. "I was not attired for the proceeding," Crawshay admitted. "I was, in fact, very inappropriately dressed.
Meanwhile Crawshay had made good his second escape, though it is believed that so distinctive a guise will lead to his recapture during the day. What do you think of that, Bunny?" "He is certainly a sportsman," said I, reaching for the paper. "He's more," said Raffles, "he's an artist, and I envy him. The curate, of all men! Beautiful beautiful! But that's not all.
"I am returning home," Crawshay continued, "because I intend to join the British Army, I was unfortunate enough to miss the boat, and being in company with a person of authority and influence, he suggested, partly in joke, that I should try to persuade one of the pilots of your new seaplanes at Jersey to bring me out. He further bet me five hundred dollars that I would not attempt the flight.
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