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How he met him on the platform with a pretended message from the board; how he offered to conduct him by a short cut across the fields to Mallingford; how, having brought him to a lonely place, he struck him down with the life-preserver, and so killed him; and how, finding what he had done, he dragged the body to the verge of an out-of-the-way chalk-pit, and there flung it in, and piled it over with branches and brambles, are facts still fresh in the memories of those who, like the connoisseurs in De Quincey's famous essay, regard murder as a fine art.

How he met him on the platform with a pretended message from the board, how he offered to conduct him by a short cut across the fields to Mallingford, how, having brought him to a lonely place, he struck him down with the life-preserver, and so killed him, and how, finding what he had done, he dragged the body to the verge of an out-of-the-way chalk-pit, and there flung it in and piled it over with branches and brambles, are facts still fresh in the memories of those who, like the connoisseurs in De Quincey's famous essay, regard murder as a fine art.

I thought I had explained how this sum only carries us as far as Mallingford, the first stage, as it were, of our journey, and how our route from Blackwater to Mallingford lies entirely through Sir Thomas Liddell's property." "I beg your pardon," I stammered. "I fear my thoughts were wandering. So you only go as far as Mallingford to-night?" "Precisely.

What was it that I saw in the train? That question remains unanswered to this day. I have never been able to reply to it. I only know that it bore the living likeness of the murdered man, whose body had then been lying some ten weeks under a rough pile of branches, and brambles, and rotting leaves, at the bottom of a deserted chalk-pit about half-way between Blackwater and Mallingford.

I thought I had explained how this sum only carries us as far as Mallingford, the first stage, as it were, of our journey, and how our route from Blackwater to Mallingford lies entirely through Sir Thomas Liddell's property." "I beg your pardon," I stammered. "I fear my thoughts were wandering. So you only go as far as Mallingford to-night?" "Precisely.

That question remains unanswered to this day. I have never been able to reply to it. I only know that it bore the living likeness of the murdered man, whose body had then been lying some ten weeks under a rough pile of branches and brambles and rotting leaves, at the bottom of a deserted chalk-pit about half-way between Blackwater and Mallingford.