"I thought
it was all wrong."
"It wasn't right, for I soon shot past him," returned young Carteret.
"But Hart knew the spot where the boat ought to have been, though I
didn't; what he did, I suppose, was to clear round it just as though it
had been there, and come in home again. It will be an awful shame if he
takes an unfair advantage of it, and claims the race."
"Hartledon never took an unfair advantage in his life," spoke up Val
Elster, in clear, decisive tones. "You need not be afraid, Carteret.
I dare say his arm failed him."
"Well, he might have hallooed when he found it failing, and not have
suffered me to row all that way for nothing," retorted young Carteret.
"Not a trace could I see of him as I came back; he had hastened home,
I expect, to shut himself up in his room with his damaged arm and foot."
"I'll see what he's doing there," said Val.
He went out; but returned immediately.
"We are all under a mistake," was his greeting. "Hartledon has not
returned yet. His servant is in his room waiting for him."
"Then what do you mean by telling stories?" demanded the
countess-dowager, turning sharply on Mr. Carteret.
"Good Heavens, ma'am! you need not begin upon me!" returned young
Carteret. "I have told no stories. I said Hart let me go on, and never
came on himself; if that's a story, I'll swallow Dawkes's skiff and the
sculls too.
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