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"I can't give them. But I may say that the blame lies at your door, David." "At my door? How do you arrive at that?" "By the shortest possible route. If you had done your duty by Elinor in the Croydon summer, Mrs. Brentwood would have had a bright young attorney for a son-in-law and adviser, and the bad investments would not have been made." Kent's laugh was entirely devoid of mirth.
I had boarded the plane at Croydon, only subconsciously aware of the drive from London through the traditionally neat hedgerows, of the completely placid and lawabiding England around me, the pleasant officials, the helpful yet not servile porters. Long Island shocked me by contrast.
It was an hour or so after candle-lighting time when they reached Croydon, the country lying all white under a full moon that sailed in a clear, calm sky. His lordship swore that he would go no farther that night.
The medical student theory still appears to me to be the most feasible, but if you should have a few hours to spare I should be very happy to see you out here. I shall be either at the house or in the police-station all day. "What say you, Watson? Can you rise superior to the heat and run down to Croydon with me on the off chance of a case for your annals?" "I was longing for something to do."
He had found the mood-word at last: it was resentment; though, being a man, he could see no good reason why the memories of the Croydon summer should make her resentful. She was not looking at him when she said: "No; sincerity is always just. And you were not quite just, I think." "To you?" he demanded. "Oh, no; to yourself." Portia Van Brock's accusation was hammering itself into his brain.
At the top of the hill, however, they settled down into their swing once more. "Where on earth have they got to?" cried my uncle. "Can you make them out on the road, nephew?" We could see a long white ribbon of it, all dotted with carts and waggons coming from Croydon to Redhill, but there was no sign of the big red four-in-hand. "There they are! Stole away!
Then he set his lips, wondering how long Father Francis would bear the pressure, and went down the steps. Oliver Brand, the new member for Croydon , sat in his study, looking out of the window over the top of his typewriter.
He was in touch with Croydon in a remarkably short space of time, and soon was in communication with a police inspector. "What's your name?" he demanded. "Inspector Wilkins," came the surprised answer. "Were you a sergeant at the time of the Surrey Bank robbery?" "Yes; but what the " "I am Winter of Scotland Yard. Do you recognize my voice?" "Well er "
"Near Croydon, sir, on the Brighton and South Coast Line," said Harry, lifting his innocent eyes to his questioner. "So! They go to Dover, then, I suppose no, perhaps to Folkestone oh, what matter? Hurry up with your tire, my man!" He watched them still as the car started. Then he went back to the house. "Whatever did you tell him that whopper about Croydon for?" whispered Dick.
The area of the preserve is 27,000 acres, and besides embracing much fine forest on Croydon Mountain, it also contains many converted farms whose meadow lands afford good grazing. The annual surplus of bison and other large game is regularly sold and distributed throughout the world for the stocking of other parks and zoological gardens.
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