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Connors's home was easily found, and Connors himself sat smoking his evening pipe upon the door-step, as unconcernedly as though he had done nothing out of the way that afternoon. The object of Mr. Lloyd's visit was soon made known, but he found more difficulty than he expected in giving such expression as he desired to the gratitude he felt.
I, however, remembered the place very well. I was only about five years old when I left it, to go and live with my old master on Colonel Lloyd's plantation; so that I was now between ten and eleven years old. We were all ranked together at the valuation. Men and women, old and young, married and single, were ranked with horses, sheep, and swine.
I was not at all sure that those petals I found on the floor had anything to do with Miss Lloyd's roses, but it must be a question possible of settlement, if I went about it in the right way. At any rate, though I had definite work ahead of me, my duty just now was to listen to the forthcoming evidence, though I could not help thinking I could have put questions more to the point than Mr.
"I pass to another point," resumed Hauteville, who was now striding back and forth with quick turns and sudden stops, his favorite manner of attack. "You say you had no quarrel with Martinez?" A shade of anxiety crossed Lloyd's face, and he looked appealingly at his counsel, who nodded with a consequential smack of the lips. "Is that true?" repeated the judge. "Why er yes."
Lloyd's child at her father's grave. Some of the incidents and conversations which had most impressed me I had already committed to writing, in the fear that, otherwise, my fancy might forge for its own thraldom the links of reminiscence which my memory might let fall from its chain.
"Did the Secret Service agent, John Symonds, speak to you of a pocketbook or a despatch?" "He did, sir. Said that they were both missing from Captain Lloyd's coat pocket. I helped him search the rooms for them, but could find no trace of either of them." "What did you do after the arrival of the provost marshal?" "I conferred with him about Captain Lloyd.
Fanny Lloyd's parents were Episcopalians, who were inclined to view with contempt fellow-Christians of the Baptist persuasion. To have a child of theirs identify herself with this despised sect was one of those crosses which they could not and would not bear. But Fanny had in a fit of girlish frolic entered one of the meetings of these low-caste Christians.
Among many other deeds of shocking cruelty which he perpetrated, while I was at Mr. Lloyd's, was the murder of a young colored man, named Denby. He was a powerful young man, full of animal spirits, and, so far as I know, he was among the most valuable of Col. Lloyd's slaves. In something I know not what he offended this Mr.
"Do you recollect, Symonds, whether the door leading from Captain Lloyd's bedroom into the rear hall was locked that night?" "No, sir, it was not," replied Symonds, confidently. "It wasn't even closed. I found it ajar when I rushed over to open it, and call for assistance after I discovered Captain Lloyd was dead. And what's more," he added, "there was no key in the lock."
It stood him in good stead when death waited for him in the depths of Halifax harbour, and it was with him now, as hour by hour he drew nearer the dark valley of the shadow. It seemed strange for the Lloyd's home, which Bert and Mary had brightened with laughter and song, to be so silent now, and for big Dr.
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