When I
think of the good money he has wasted--But then, sir, I am no politician.
Colonel Clive and I are two ruined men; 'tis a somewhat strange
coincidence that he and I are almost of an age, and that we both, before
many weeks are past, shall be crossing the ocean once more to retrieve
our fallen fortunes."
Walking side by side during this conversation they had now come into the
road leading past Desmond's home. In the distance, approaching them,
appeared a post chaise, drawn by four galloping horses. The sight broke
the thread of the conversation.
"'Tis the squire at last!" cried Desmond. "Sure he must have put up at
Newcastle overnight."
But that he was intently watching the rapid progress of the chaise, he
might have noticed a curious change of expression on his companion's
face. The smile faded, the lips became set with a kind of grim
determination. But Diggle's pleasant tone had not altered when he said:
"Our ways part here, my friend--for the present. I doubt not we shall
meet again; and if you care to hear of my adventures by field and
flood--why, 'I will a round unvarnished tale deliver,' as the Moor of
Venice says in the play. For the present, then, farewell!"
He turned down a leafy lane, and had disappeared from view before the
chaise reached the spot. As it ran by, its only occupant, a big,
red-faced, white-wigged old gentleman, caught sight of the boy and hailed
him in a rich, jolly voice.
"Ha, Desmond! Home again, you see! Scotched the enemy once more! Come and
see me!"
The chaise was past before Desmond could reply.
Pages:
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45