Red Money by Fergus Hume (the little red hen ebook .txt) 📖

Lambert: "I Can't

Come,  Rye. Ishmael Will Want To See Me. I Must Wait."

 

"What A Nuisance," Said Lambert,  Looking Annoyed. "Fancy,  Clara. I Have

An Idea Of Painting These Two As Beauty And The Beast,  Or Perhaps As

Esmeralda And Quasimodo. I Want Them To Come To The Cottage And Sit Now,

But They Will Wait For This Confounded Ishmael."

 

"We Can Come To-Morrow," Put In Chaldea Quickly. "This Afternoon I Must

Dance For Ishmael,  And Kara Must Play."

Chapter 3 (An Unexpected Recognition) Pg 28

"Ishmael Will Meet With A Fine Reception," Said Miss Greeby,  And Then,

Anxious To Have A Private Conversation With Chaldea So As To Disabuse

Her Mind Of Any Idea She May Have Entertained Of Marrying Lambert,  She

Added,  "I Think I Shall Stay And See Him."

 

"In That Case,  I Shall Return To My Cottage," Replied Lambert,

Sauntering Up The Pathway,  Which Was Strewn With Withered Leaves.

 

"When Are You Coming To The Manor?" Called Miss Greeby After Him.

 

"Never! I Am Too Busy," He Replied Over His Shoulder And Disappeared

Into The Wood. This Departure May Seem Discourteous,  But Then Miss

Greeby Liked To Be Treated Like A Comrade And Without Ceremony. That

Is,  She Liked It So Far As Other Men Were Concerned,  But Not As Regards

Lambert. She Loved Him Too Much To Approve Of His Careless Leave-Taking,

And Therefore She Frowned Darkly,  As She Turned Her Attention To

Chaldea.

 

The Girl Saw That Miss Greeby Was Annoyed,  And Guessed The Cause Of Her

Annoyance. The Idea That This Red-Haired And Gaunt Woman Should Love The

Handsome Gorgio Was So Ludicrous In Chaldea's Eyes That She Laughed In

An Ironical Fashion. Miss Greeby Turned On Her Sharply,  But Before She

Could Speak There Was A Sound Of Many Voices Raised In Welcome.

"Sarishan Pal! Sarishan Ba!" Cried The Voices,  And Chaldea Started.

 

"Ishmael!" She Said,  And Ran Toward The Camp,  Followed Leisurely By

Kara.

 

Anxious To See The Great Romany,  Whose Arrival Caused All This

Commotion,  Miss Greeby Plunged Into The Crowd Of Excited Vagrants. These

Surrounded A Black Horse,  On Which Sat A Slim,  Dark-Faced Man Of The

True Romany Breed. Miss Greeby Stared At Him And Blinked Her Eyes,  As

Though She Could Not Believe What They Beheld,  While The Man Waved His

Hand And Responded To The Many Greetings In Gypsy Language. His Eyes

Finally Met Her Own As She Stood On The Outskirts Of The Crowd,  And He

Started. Then She Knew. "Sir Hubert Pine," Said Miss Greeby,  Still

Staring. "Sir Hubert Pine!"

Chapter 4 (Secrets) Pg 29

The Scouting Crowd Apparently Did Not Catch The Name,  So Busy Were One

And All In Welcoming The Newcomer. But The Man On The Horse Saw Miss

Greeby's Startled Look,  And Noticed That Her Lips Were Moving. In A

Chapter 4 (Secrets) Pg 30

Moment He Threw Himself Off The Animal And Elbowed His Way Roughly

Through The Throng.

 

"Sir Hubert," Began Miss Greeby,  Only To Be Cut Short Hastily.

 

"Don't Give Me Away," Interrupted Pine,  Who Here Was Known As Ishmael

Hearne. "Wait Till I Settle Things,  And Then We Can Converse Privately."

 

"All Right," Answered The Lady,  Nodding,  And Gripped Her Bludgeon

Crosswise Behind Her Back With Two Hands. She Was So Surprised At The

Sight Of The Millionaire In The Wood,  That She Could Scarcely Speak.

 

Satisfied That She Grasped The Situation,  Pine Turned To His Friends And

Spoke At Length In Fluent Romany. He Informed Them That He Had Some

Business To Transact With The Gentile Lady Who Had Come To The Camp For

That Purpose,  And Would Leave Them For Half An Hour. The Man Evidently

Was Such A Favorite That Black Looks Were Cast On Miss Greeby For

Depriving The Romany Of His Society. But Pine Paid No Attention To These

Signs Of Discontent. He Finished His Speech,  And Then Pushed His Way

Again Toward The Lady Who,  Awkwardly For Him,  Was Acquainted With His

True Position As A Millionaire. In A Hurried Whisper He Asked Miss

Greeby To Follow Him,  And Led The Way Into The Heart Of The Wood.

Apparently He Knew It Very Well,  And Knew Also Where To Seek Solitude

For The Private Conversation He Desired,  For He Skirted The Central

Glade Where Lambert's Cottage Was Placed,  And Finally Guided His

Companion To A Secluded Dell,  Far Removed From The Camp Of His Brethren.

Here He Sat Down On A Mossy Stone,  And Stared With Piercing Black Eyes

At Miss Greeby.

 

"What Are You Doing Here?" He Demanded Imperiously.

 

"Just The Question I Was About To Put To You," Said Miss Greeby Amiably.

She Could Afford To Be Amiable,  For She Felt That She Was The Mistress

Of The Situation. Pine Evidently Saw This,  For He Frowned.

 

"You Must Have Guessed Long Ago That I Was A Gypsy," He Snapped

Restlessly.

 

"Indeed I Didn't,  Nor,  I Should Think,  Did Any One Else. I Thought You

Had Nigger Blood In You,  And I Have Heard People Say That You Came From

The West Indies. But What Does It Matter If You Are A Gypsy? There Is No

Disgrace In Being One."

 

"No Disgrace,  Certainly," Rejoined The Millionaire,  Leaning Forward And

Linking His Hands Together,  While He Stared At The Ground. "I Am Proud

Of Having The Gentle Romany Blood. All The Same I Prefer The West Indian

Legend,  For I Don't Want Any Of My Civilized Friends To Know That I Am

Ishmael Hearne,  Born And Bred In A Tent."

 

"Well,  That's Natural,  Pine. What Would Garvington Say?"

 

"Oh,  Curse Garvington!"

 

"Curse The Whole Family By All Means," Retorted Miss Greeby Coolly.

Chapter 4 (Secrets) Pg 31

Pine Looked Up Savagely,  "I Except My Wife."

 

"Naturally. You Always Were Uxorious."

 

"Perhaps," Said Pine Gloomily,  "I'm A Fool Where Agnes Is Concerned."

 

Miss Greeby Quite Agreed With This Statement,  But Did Not Think It Worth

While To Indorse So Obvious A Remark. She Sat Down In Her Turn,  And

Taking Lambert's Cigarette Case,  Which She Had Retained By Accident,  Out

Of Her Pocket,  She Prepared To Smoke. The Two Were Entirely Alone In The

Fairy Dell,  And The Trees Which Girdled It Were Glorious With Vivid

Autumnal Tints. A Gentle Breeze Sighing Through The Wood,  Shook Down

Yew,  Crisp Leaves On The Woman's Head,  So That She Looked Like Danae In

A Shower Of Gold. Pine Gazed Heavily At The Ground And Coughed

Violently. Miss Greeby Knew That Cough,  And A Medical Friend Of Hers

Had Told Her Several Times That Sir Hubert Was A Very Consumptive

Individual. He Certainly Looked Ill,  And Apparently Had Not Long To

Live. And If He Died,  Lady Agnes,  Inheriting His Wealth,  Would Be More

Desirable As A Wife Than Ever. And Miss Greeby,  Guessing Whose Wife She

Would Be,  Swore Inwardly That The Present Husband Should Look So

Delicate. But She Showed No Sign Of Her Perturbations,  But Lighted Her

Cigarette With A Steady Hand And Smoked Quietly. She Always Prided

Herself On Her Nerve.

 

The Millionaire Was Tall And Lean,  With A Sinewy Frame,  And An Oval,

Olive-Complexioned Face. It Was Clean-Shaven,  And With His Aquiline

Nose,  His Thin Lips,  And Brilliant Black Eyes,  Which Resembled Those Of

Kara,  He Looked Like A Long-Descended Hindoo Prince. The Eastern Blood

Of The Romany Showed In His Narrow Feet And Slim Brown Hands,  And There

Was A Wild Roving Look About Him,  Which Miss Greeby Had Not Perceived In

London.

 

"I Suppose It's The Dress," She Said Aloud,  And Eyed Pine Critically.

 

"What Do You Say,  Miss Greeby?" He Asked,  Looking Up In A Sharp,

Startled Manner,  And Again Coughing In A Markedly Consumptive Way.

 

"The Cowl Makes The Monk In Your Case," Replied The Woman Quietly. "Your

Corduroy Breeches And Velveteen Coat,  With That Colored Shirt,  And The

Yellow Handkerchief Round Your Neck,  Seem To Suit You Better Than Did

The Frock Coats And Evening Dress I Have Seen You In. You Did Look Like

A Nigger Of Sorts When In Those Clothes; Now I Can Tell You Are A Gypsy

With Half An Eye."

 

"That Is Because You Heard Me Called Ishmael And Saw Me Among My Kith

And Kin," Said The Man With A Tired Smile. "Don't Tell Agnes."

 

"Why Should I? It's None Of My Business If You Chose To Masquerade As A

Gypsy."

 

"I Masquerade As Sir Hubert Pine," Retorted The Millionaire,  Slipping

Chapter 4 (Secrets) Pg 32

Off The Stone To Sprawl Full-Length On The Grass. "I Am Truly And Really

One Of The Lot In The Camp Yonder."

 

"Do They Know You By Your Gentile Name?"

 

Pine Laughed. "You Are Picking Up The Gypsy Lingo,  Miss Greeby. No.

Every One On The Road Takes Me For What I Am,  Ishmael Hearne,  And My

Friends In The Civilized World Think I Am Sir Hubert Pine,  A Millionaire

With Colored Blood In His Veins."

 

"How Do You Come To Have A Double Personality And Live A Double Life?"

 

"Oh,  That Is Easily Explained,  And Since You Have Found Me Out It Is

Just