And the dance went on, and revelry rose to its maddest pitch.
But no one, who, as has been recorded above, had heard the sound of the
wheels, gave a thought to the Duke of AVADRYNKE, as he sat tearing his hair
in the violet bedroom, having learnt from the faithful Seneschal the
terrible news of the Duchess's elopement with the heir to the house of
PODOPHLIN.
CHAPTER III.
THE morn of the race dawned clear and sparkling. Far as the eye could
reach, the banks of the river were rich with Millions, and firm enough to
bear any run upon them however heavy. But Sir WELFORARD LONGSTROKE was ill
at ease. His No. 5 had fled leaving no trace, and he had no one to fill the
vacancy. He looked the very model of an aquatic hero. His broad chest was
loosely clad in a pair of blue satin shorts, and his fair hair fell in
waving masses over his muscular back. His thoughts were bitter. The Camford
crew had started on the race some ten minutes ago, and the Oxbridge craft
still waited idly in the docks for want of a No. 5.
"Surely," Sir WELFORARD thought to himself, "PODOPHLIN might have postponed
the elopement for one day." A confused noise interrupted his meditations.
Some ten yards from him a man roughly clad, but with the immense muscular
development of the Arri Furnese Apollo, was engaged in fighting three
bargees at once.
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