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Updated: June 6, 2025
What else could I do with them anyway? But I believe if I'd met your friend, Lord Ashiel, before I'd taken the fatal step, I'd have waited to see if he didn't fancy an Amurrican wife. But of course he doesn't care a hill of beans whether I'm rich or not. He's got plenty himself, I'm told, and I guess he'd never have looked at me while you were around, any old way.
Every one was very nice to me; and, though nothing out of the way happened, it was all new and delightful, and I enjoyed it very much. Lord Ashiel, especially, was kindness itself; he was never tired of explaining to me the customs and traditions of the countryside, and he spared no pains to see that I was amused and entertained. I was with him most of the time, and grew to know him very well.
It seemed to me impossible that none of these considerations should have occurred to young Ashiel, if he were really reluctant to believe in Sir David's guilt.
That is, if I can't get Miss Byrne to take it, or Miss McConachan, as I ought to call her now." "Lord Ashiel could leave his money where he liked, couldn't he?" Gimblet inquired. "Yes, he could, but he would naturally have left it to his daughter, if she really was his daughter.
Glad to see you bearing up so well under these tragic circumstances," he said, shaking hands with that lady, who came to the door to welcome him. "Poor Ashiel ought to have had shutters to his windows. Dreadful mistake, no shutters: lets in draughts and colds in the head, if nothing worse. These old houses are all the same. No safety in them from anything.
Gimblet looked at him with questioning disapproval. It was an inflexible rule of his that when engaged with a client he was not to be disturbed. Higgs, well acquainted with this rule, hovered doubtfully in the doorway, displaying on the salver he carried the blue, unaddressed envelope Lord Ashiel had told him to deliver at once. "It's a note, sir," he murmured hesitatingly.
We know no more about your affairs than you have told us yourself." "Oh," murmured Juliet, confused at her mistake. "I thought you were Mr. Ince," she apologized; "I am so sorry." "Not very flattering to poor Ince I'm afraid," said Lord Ashiel, smiling at her. "He's ten years younger than I am, I'm sorry to say, and I would change places with him very willingly.
"You can imagine the scene: Lord Ashiel falling forward upon the writing-table under the light of the lamp; the scoundrel leaping from his post upon the plank, but not so quickly that he did not see the girl throw herself on her knees at the side of the fallen man.
Doubtless because something more important than the will was involved; indeed, if anything was clear, from the ambiguous sentence and the precaution that Ashiel had taken that though it fell into the hands of his enemies it should convey nothing to them, it was that he considered the mystification of the uninitiated a matter of transcendental importance.
I told you that after the first search in the grounds was over, and everyone had gone up to bed, I slipped out of the house by the door near the gunroom, and came round to the library to see if Lord Ashiel had carried the list on him.
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