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Miss Gwilt, in the character of a Nun, is the sort of female phenomenon you don't often set eyes on." "Did she go into the convent?" asked Mr. Bashwood. "Did they let her go in, so friendless and so young, with nobody to advise her for the best?" "The Blanchards were consulted, as a matter of form," pursued Bashwood the younger.
Utterly incapable of understanding more than that he had involved himself in some serious complication which was a complete mystery to him, Mr. Bashwood struggled to extricate himself from the grasp that was laid on him, and struggled in vain. Midwinter sternly repeated the question. "I ask you again," he said, "what do you mean by it?" "Nothing, sir! I give you my word of honor, I meant nothing!"
"Who is the doctor who has the care of Miss Milroy?" persisted Midwinter, still addressing Mr. Bashwood. For the second time the steward made no reply. For the second time, Allan answered for him. "He is a man with a foreign name," said Allan. "He keeps a Sanitarium near Hampstead. What did you say the place was called, Mr. Bashwood?"
Over and over again, the man answered, "Right in front of us." It was between nine and ten o'clock when the driver pulled up his horse at last. Midwinter got out, and saw the cab before them waiting at a house door. As soon as he had satisfied himself that the driver was the man whom Mr. Bashwood had hired, he paid the promised reward, and dismissed his own cab.
Five minutes later, the porter charged with the business of locking up the station found Mr. Bashwood, still standing bare-headed against the wall, and still looking straight into the black depths of the tunnel, as if the train to London had disappeared in it but a moment since. "Come, sir!" said the porter; "I must lock up. Are you out of sorts? Anything wrong with your inside?
I can't say what my plans will be until that anxiety is set at rest." The light of a lamp fell on his face while he spoke, and Mr. Bashwood observed, for the first time, that he looked sadly worn and changed. "I'm sorry, sir I'm sure I'm very sorry. If I could be of any use " suggested Mr.
In the entirely improbable event of his dying just when we want him to die, my idea I might even say, my resolution is to admit that we knew of his resurrection from the sea; and to acknowledge that we instructed Mr. Bashwood to entrap him into this house, by means of a false statement about Miss Milroy.
Without another word of expostulation or entreaty, without even saying "Good-morning" on his side, he walked to the door, opened it, softly, and left the room. The parting look in his face, and the sudden silence that had fallen on him, were not lost on Pedgift Senior. "Bashwood will end badly," said the lawyer, shuffling his papers, and returning impenetrably to his interrupted work.
Bashwood, shifting his ground in despair, and letting the uppermost idea in his mind escape him, simply because it was the one idea in him that was ready to come out. "Does it concern me?" asked Pedgift Senior, mercilessly brief, and mercilessly straight in coming to the point. "It concerns a lady, sir no, not a lady a young man, I ought to say, in whom you used to feel some interest. Oh, Mr.
Bashwood, what may have seemed fake and deceitful in my conduct toward you when you give me a personal opportunity. If he was on the right side of sixty, I should feel doubtful of results. But he is on the wrong side of sixty, and I believe he will give me my personal opportunity. "Ten o'clock.
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