Some Raskells have tried
to lame 'Moonraker,' but thanks to my Imp and your man Martin, quite
unsuccessfully. How-beit your man Martin--regular game for all his
years--has a broken nob and one ogle closed up, and I a ball through
my arm, but nothing to matter. But I am greatly pirtirbed for the
safety of 'Moonraker' and mean to get him into safer quarters and
advise you to do likewise. Also, though your horse 'The Terror,' as
the stable-boys call him, is not even in the betting, it almost seems,
from what I can gather, that they meant to nobble him also.
Therefore I think you were wiser to return at once, and I am anxious
to see you on another matter as well. Your bets with Carnaby and
Chichester have somehow got about and are the talk of the town, and
from what I hear, much to your disparagement, I fear.
A pity to shorten your stay in the country, but under the
circumstances, most advisable.
Yours ever, etc.,
DICK.
P.S. My love and service to the Duchess, Cleone and the Capt.
Now here Barnabas looked at Cleone, and sighed, and Cleone sighing
also, nodded her head:
"You must go," said she, very softly, and sighed again.
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