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"Perhaps it was selfish to ask you in your holidays," she said. "But, somehow, I felt " "Think nothing whatever of that. I hope that what lies before us may not take very long. And now I will listen to you. There is no need to tell me anything about what has happened at Foggintor. I shall hear all about that later in the day.
His purpose is to indicate a hiding-place for the corpse and lead search in a certain direction; but he is not going to trust the sea; he is not going to stand the risk of Robert Redmayne's corpse spoiling his game. No, his victim never left Foggintor and probably Michael will presently tell us where to find the body.
He wore the tweed clothes, cap and red waistcoat that Brendon well remembered at Foggintor; the moonlight flashed on his startled eyes and showed his great mustache and white teeth visible beneath it. There was dread upon his face and haggard misery, yet no madness. It seemed that he kept a tryst there; but it had not been Mark Brendon that he expected.
"There is an hour in which a man may be happy all his life, can he but find it." Then he grew ashamed of himself and felt something like a blush suffuse his plain features. At the police station a car was waiting for him and in twenty minutes he had reached Foggintor.
Pendean's uncle-in-law have slaughtered Mr. Pendean by the looks of it." "What did he want to do that for?" asked Brendon without emotion. "That's for clever men like you to find out," answered Will. "And who is Mr. Pendean?" "The gentleman what's building the bungalow down to Foggintor." Mark started. The big red man flashed to his mind complete in every physical feature.
While alive enough and close enough to impress both Bendigo and Brendon with his presence as described by Jenny and myself, he has in reality vanished to the void. The "forgery" again goes to sleep as soundly as the real man in Foggintor. Accident, indeed, modified the original scheme and once more Chance befriended us and enabled us to improve upon the first intention.
They occurred in a soft place just outside the mouth of the tunnel and he recollected the toe plates and the triangle-headed nails that held them. He called Inspector Damarell. "When this is compared with the plaster casts taken at Foggintor, you'll find it's the same boot," he said. "That's no surprise, of course, but it proves probably that we are dealing with the same man."
"Remember, I'm not a stranger to him, Ganns. I saw and spoke with him by the pool in Foggintor Quarry before the murder." "What of it? You've never spoken with him since; and, what's more, you've never seen him since, either. You've seen a forgery. It was a forgery that looked at you on your way back to Dartmouth in the moonlight.
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