These partisans scorned the
suggestion that Mr. Fouracres had made a mistake, but they were unable to
deny that a letter, addressed to the Prince himself, with a view to putting
an end to the debate, had elicited (in a secretarial hand) a brief denial
of the landlord's story. Evidently something very mysterious underlay the
whole affair, and there was much shaking of heads for a long time.
To Mr. Fouracres the result of the honour he so strenuously vindicated was
serious indeed. By way of defiance to all mockers he wished to change the
time-honoured sign of the inn, and to substitute for it the Prince of
Wales's Feathers. On this point he came into conflict with the owner of the
property, and, having behaved very violently, received notice that his
lease, just expiring, would not be renewed. Whereupon what should Mr.
Fouracres do but purchase land and begin to build for himself an hotel
twice as large as that he must shortly quit. On this venture he used all,
and more than all, his means, and, as every one had prophesied, he was soon
a ruined man. In less than three years from the fatal day he turned his
back upon the town where he had known respect and prosperity, and went
forth to earn his living as best he could.
Pages:
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450