Beaumaroy Home from the Wars

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Hope Anthony. Beaumaroy Home from the Wars

CHAPTER I. DOCTOR MARY'S PAYING GUEST

CHAPTER II. THE GENERAL REMEMBERS

CHAPTER III. MR. SAFFRON AT HOME

CHAPTER IV. PROFESSIONAL ETIQUETTE

CHAPTER V. A FAMILIAR IMPLEMENT

CHAPTER VI. ODD STORY OF CAPTAIN DUGGLE!

CHAPTER VII. A GENTLEMANLY STRANGER

CHAPTER VIII. CAPTAIN ALEC RAISES HIS VOICE

CHAPTER IX. DOCTOR MARY'S ULTIMATUM

CHAPTER X. THAT MAGICAL WORD MOROCCO!

CHAPTER XI. THE CAR BEHIND THE TREES

CHAPTER XII. THE SECRET OF THE TOWER

CHAPTER XIII. RIGHT OF CONQUEST

CHAPTER XIV. THE SCEPTRE IN THE GRAVE

CHAPTER XV. A NORMAL CASE

CHAPTER XVI. DEAD MAJESTY

CHAPTER XVII. THE CHIEF MOURNERS

CHAPTER XVIII. THE GOLD AND THE TREASURE

Отрывок из книги

Amongst many various, and no doubt useful, functions, Miss Delia Wall performed that of gossip and newsagent-general to the village of Inkston. A hard-featured, swarthy spinster of forty, with a roving, inquisitive, yet not unkindly eye, she perambulated – or rather percycled – the district, taking stock of every incident. Not a cat could kitten or a dog have the mange without her privity; critics of her mental activity went near to insinuating connivance. Naturally, therefore, she was well acquainted with the new development at Tower Cottage, although the isolated position of that dwelling made thorough observation piquantly difficult. She laid her information before an attentive, if not very respectful, audience gathered round the tea-table at Old Place, the Naylors' handsome house on the outskirts of Sprotsfield and on the far side of the heath from Inkston. She was enjoying herself, although she was, as usual, a trifle distrustful of the quality of Mr. Naylor's smile; it smacked of the satiric. "He looks at you as if you were a specimen," she had once been heard to complain; and, when she said "specimen," it was obviously beetles that she had in mind.

"Everybody knows old Mr. Saffron – by sight, I mean – and the woman who does for him," she said. "There's never been anything remarkable about them. He took his walk as regular as clock-work every afternoon, and she bought just the same things every week; her books must have tallied almost to a penny every month, Mrs. Naylor! I know it! And it was a very rare thing indeed for Mr. Saffron to go to London, though I have known him to be away once or twice; but very, very rarely!" She paused and added dramatically, "Until the armistice!"

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"Oh, with Dr. Irechester, dear Mr. Beaumaroy, you're all right!"

Again Beaumaroy's glance – that glance of innocent appeal – ranged over the company (except the General, out of its reach). He seemed troubled and embarrassed.

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