A Crooked Path A Novel
CHAPTER I. "GATHERING CLOUDS." The London season had not yet reached its height, some years ago, before the arch admitting to Constitution Hill had been swept back to make room for the huge, ever-increasing stream of traffic, or the plebeian 'bus had been permitted to penetrate the precincts of Hamilton Place. It was the forenoon of a splendid day, one of the earliest of June, and at that hour the roadway between the entrance to Hyde Park and the gate then surmounted by the statue of the Duke of Wellington on his drooping steed was comparatively free, when two gentlemen coming from opposite directions recognized each other, and paused at the gate of Apsley House--the elder, a stout, florid man of military aspect, middle age, and average height, with large gray mustache and small, slightly bloodshot eyes; the younger, who was tall and bony, might have been thirty, or even forty, so grave and sedate was his bearing, although his erect carriage, elastic step, and clear keen dark eyes suggested earlier manhood.
"It's not much farther, son. Move right along as fast as you can.
Hurry, boy. Your mother's pretty worried. Thank goodness we found
you in time."
CHAPTER III
SUGARING OFF
The next morning, incredible as it seemed, Bob and Van were none the
worse for their mountain trip, and Mr. Carlton, who had worried no
little about them, and who was still feeling the effects of his
hours of anxiety, remarked somewhat wrathfully:
"You two fellows come to the surface like a pair of corks! Any one
would think that being lost on a mountain was an every-day
occurrence with you. That is the difference between sixteen and
forty-six, I suppose. My poor old nerves rebel at being jolted in
such casual fashion."
Bob smiled.
"We're fit as two fighting cocks to-day, Father," he declared. "In
CHAPTER I. "GATHERING CLOUDS." The London season had not yet reached its height, some years ago, before the arch admitting to Constitution Hill had been swept back to make room for the huge, ever-increasing stream of traffic, or the plebeian 'bus had been permitted to penetrate the precincts of Hamilton Place. It was the forenoon of a splendid day, one of the earliest of June, and at that hour the roadway between the entrance to Hyde Park and the gate then surmounted by the statue of the Duke of Wellington on his drooping steed was comparatively free, when two gentlemen coming from opposite directions recognized each other, and paused at the gate of Apsley House--the elder, a stout, florid man of military aspect, middle age, and average height, with large gray mustache and small, slightly bloodshot eyes; the younger, who was tall and bony, might have been thirty, or even forty, so grave and sedate was his bearing, although his erect carriage, elastic step, and clear keen dark eyes suggested earlier manhood.