Alicia Warlock

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Excerpt from Alicia Warlock: A Mystery, and Other Stories Persons Of The Mystery. Francis Raven... (Ostler) Mrs. Raven... (His Mother) Mrs. Chance... (His Aunt) Percy Fairbank Mrs. Fairbank... (His Master and Mistress) Joseph Rigobert... (His Fellow-servants) Alicia Warlock... (His Wife) Period - The Present Time. Scene - Partly In England, Partly In France. The First Narrative. Introductory Statement Of The Facts. By Percy Fairbank. I. "Hullo, there! Ostler! Hullo-o-o!" "My dear, why don't you look for the bell ? " "I have looked - there is no bell." "And nobody in the yard. How very extraordinary! Call again, dear." "Ostler! Hullo, there! Ostler r-r!" My second call echoes through empty space, and rouses nobody - produces, in short, no visible results I am at the end of my resources - I don't know what to say or what to do next. Here I stand in the solitary inn yard of a strange town, with two horses to hold and a lady to take care of. By way of adding to my responsibilities, it so happens that one of the horses is dead lame, and that the lady is my wife. Who am I? - you will asks. There is plenty of time to answer the question. Nothing happens, and nobody appears to receive us. Let me introduce myself and my wife. I am Percy Fairbank, English gentleman, age (let us say) forty, no profession, moderate politics, middle height, fair complexion, easy character, plenty of money. My wife is a French lady. She was Mlle. Clotilde Delorge, when I was first presented to her at her father's house in France. I fell in love with her, I really don't know why. It might have been because I was perfectly idle, and had nothing else to do at the time. Or it might have been because all my friends said she was the very last woman I ought to think of marrying. On the surface, I must own, there is nothing in common between Mrs. Fairbank and me. She is tall, she is dark, she is nervous, excitable, romantic, in all her opinions she proceeds to extremes. What could such a woman see in me? What could I see in her? I know no more than you do. In some mysterious manner, we exactly suit each other. We have been man and wife for ten years, and our only regret is that we have no children. I don't know what you may think, I call that (upon the whole) a happy marraige. So much for ourselves. The next question is, What has brought us into the inn yard, and why am I obliged to turn groom, and hold the horses? About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully, any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.