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Updated: June 5, 2025
Don't do it again, that's all." "I won't if you'll only tell me one thing. Were you ever engaged to anybody but me?" "No; I was never engaged to anybody but you." "Then you were never in love with ten gentlemen at once like the Countess Pol " His answer was cut short by the entrance of Sir Peter Morley, followed by Captain Stanistreet.
I am most anxious first to express our gratitude, next to learn how you came by your information." "You will find it an interesting story." "No doubt of that." Stanistreet took the desk chair, opened a cigar humidor, and offered it. "I shall be even more interested, however," he said with an evanescent trace of humour, "to know who the devil you are, sir."
"What a pity you must be chained down by inexorable duty, while we fly round and amuse ourselves." "I must not complain," Blensop stated with humility becoming in a dutiful martyr, a pose which he saw fit quickly to discard as another man came briskly into the room. "Ah, good evening, Colonel Stanistreet." "Evening, Blensop."
When he spoke again it was with the conscious incisiveness of a drunken man trying hard to control his speech. "Would you mind telling me who you've told this story to? Lady Morley, for one. My wife," he raised his voice in his excitement, "my wife, I suppose, for another?" Stanistreet had every reason for not wanting to quarrel with Tyson.
Half inclined to commit the imprudence of sending a name up to Miss Brooke any name but Andre Duchemin, Michael Lanyard, or Anthony Ember together with a message artfully worded to fix her interest without giving comfort to the enemy, should it chance to go astray, the adventurer hesitated by the desk; and of a sudden was satisfied that such a move would be not only injudicious but waste of time; for, now that he paused to think of it, he surmised that the young woman "young and good-looking", on Walker's word who had called to see Colonel Stanistreet was none other than this same Cecelia Brooke.
His endeavours to reply evoked only a husky, rattling sound. "What the devil has come over you?" Stanistreet insisted. The rattle became articulate: "I've lost it! It's gone!" "What have you lost?" "N-nothing, sir. That is I mean to say my fountain pen." "The way you take it, I should say you'd lost your head," Stanistreet commented. "You must have dropped the thing somewhere.
In his own choice phrase, he "liked to give a mare a loose rein when he knew her paces." It was all right. He knew Molly, and if he did not, Stanistreet knew him. But these things were subtleties which Drayton Parva did not understand, and naturally enough it began to avoid the Tysons because of them. Apparently Mrs. Nevill Tyson liked Stanistreet. Nevill Tyson out. Day after day Mrs.
"Then I understand Monsieur Duchemin must have told you ?" The girl addressed Stanistreet. "Permit me to leave you " Lanyard interposed. "No," she begged "please not! I've nothing to say that you may not hear. You have been too much involved " "If mademoiselle insists," Lanyard demurred. "I feel it is not right I should stay.
Stanistreet was depressed and hardly spoke, while Tyson vainly tried to hide his nervousness under a fictitious jocularity. He looked eagerly for the night, by which time he had concluded that all anxiety would be ended. But when ten o'clock came and he found that nothing more nor less than a long night-watch was required of him, his nerves revolted.
It was the beginning of the hunting season, and with the hunting season Louis Stanistreet reappeared on the scene. He stayed at Thorneytoft as usual. Tyson had just bought a new hunter, a remarkable animal. It fell away suddenly in the hind-quarters; it had a neck like a giraffe and legs like a spider; but it could jump, if not very like a horse, very like a kangaroo.
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