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Though they were not of great value, they were precious in Ricky's eyes, and even Charity exclaimed over them. The second bag yielded a carnelian seal on a wide chain of gold mesh, the sort of ornament a dandy wore dangling from his watch pocket in the days of the Regency. And the third bag contained a cross of silver, blackened by time, set with amethysts.
The thin, efficient, brown-faced person who was Roderick St. Jean de Roche Ralestone, to grant him his full name, stretched lazily and transferred a fistful of Ricky's peas to his mouth, a mouth which was no longer sullen. At Val's question he raised his shoulders in one of his French shrugs and considered. "Yellow, with lilies behind mah ears," he grinned at Ricky.
And I do not think it is wise of you to be too critical of plans which were made by deeper thinkers than yourself. Sometimes, Red, you weary me." There was no reply to that harsh judgment. And now Val could hear what Ricky had heard earlier a faint swish as of a paddle through water. Again Ricky's lips shaped words he could barely hear. "Spur of bayou runs along here in back.
Unfortunately, those were years of disturbance and change. Events which might have been the talk of the town, and so have found description in gossipy memoirs, were swallowed by happenings of national importance. It is, I believe, in intimate family records only that I can find the clue I seek." "Which scenes" Ricky's eyes shone in the firelight "are those Dr. Richardson believes real?"
A warm wind brought in its hold the heavy scent of flowering bushes and trees. His shirt clung to his shoulders damply. It was hot even in the shade of the oaks. Rupert had gone to town to see LeFleur and hear the worst, so that Pirate's Haven, save for themselves and Letty-Lou, was deserted. "Come on," Ricky's arm slid through his, "let's explore.
Ricky's fingers bit tighter so that Val longed to twist out of her grip. The key grated in the lock and then Rupert shot back the accompanying bolt. "Something's there," breathed Ricky. "Probably nothing but a branch blown against the door by the wind," Val assured her, remembering the tangled state of the garden.
He said that he is the direct descendant of Roderick Ralestone and that he can produce proof of that fact." "And he wants his share of the estate?" asked Ricky shrewdly. "Yes." "He can keep on wanting," Val said shortly. "We've nothing to give." "There's Pirate's Haven," pointed out Mr. LeFleur. "But he can't " Ricky's hand closed about her brother's wrist.
Ricky's broad face changed as he read his despatch; and Molly Hesketh, shamelessly peeping over his shoulder, exclaimed, "It's cipher! How stupid! Can you understand it, Ricky?" Yes, Rickerl von Elster understood it well enough. He paled a little, thrust the crumpled telegram into his pocket, and looked vaguely at the circle of faces.
I wish I'd known Graham was going out, I'd have gone, too." "Barbara Lee's going to take Capt. Ricky's place in the gym," Isobel further informed her sisters. "You know she was on the crew and the basketball team and the hockey team at college." "Let's try for the school team this year, Isobel." Gyp sat up very straight. "Don't you remember how Capt.
You know, that grinning skull we have stuck up all over the place to bolster up our superiority complex. That proves that this is ours, all right." "Perhaps " Ricky's eyes were round with excitement, "perhaps it belonged to Pirate Dick himself!" "Perhaps it did," her younger brother agreed. "Lift the lid." She was almost hopping on one foot in her impatience. "Let's see what's inside."
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