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Updated: May 2, 2025
Upon my soul, bad as the man was, I'm sorry for him." "So am I," said Paul. "And after all, he is Sylvia's father." "Poor girl, to have a murderer for a father!" Beecot turned pale. "I love Sylvia for herself," he said, with an effort, "and if her father had committed twenty murders I would not let her go. But she must never know."
Beecot off the scent, seeing that he was defending Miss Norman's interests. Do you think I don't know that this woman Krill came to see you, through Hay, whose lawyer you are? She was here on that fatal evening," said Hurd, making a bold shot, "how did you prevent her seeing Norman?" Pash was completely thrown off his balance by this volley of language and presumption of knowledge. "Mrs.
"Of course not," put in Mrs. Krill, ironically, with another look at his dress. "But I do care for Sylvia Norman " "With whom I have nothing to do." "She is your husband's daughter." "But not mine. This is my daughter, Maud the legal daughter of Lemuel and myself," she added meaningly. "Good heavens, madam," cried Beecot, his face turning white, "what do you mean?" Mrs.
Beecot, since you're his friend." "That I am not," disclaimed Beecot, emphatically; "there's a young lawyer I know, Ford is his name. I went to see him as to what chances Sylvia had of getting the money. He was at school with me, and remembered Hay. He said that Hay was dismissed from Torrington School for stealing." "Didn't you know that yourself."
"Well, let us marry if you like, though we will be poor." "No," said Sylvia, sorrowfully; "after all, strange and harsh though my father is, he is still my father, and at times he is kind. I must stay with him to the end." "What end?" Sylvia shook her head still more sorrowfully. "Who knows? Paul, my father is afraid of dying suddenly." "By violence?" asked Beecot, thinking of Deborah's talk.
It was not locked, and Maud, struggling with Sylvia had no time to close it. With a cry of alarm Paul threw up the window and jumped into the room. At the same moment Deborah, putting her sturdy shoulder to the frail door, burst it open. Beecot flung himself on the woman and dragged her back. But she clung like a leech to Sylvia with the black handkerchief in her grip.
"I expect he never thought anyone would guess he was a Thug. The novel is not one usually read nowadays. It was the merest chance that Miss Norman came across it and told Beecot." "I don't believe in such coincidences," said Aurora, dryly; for in spite of her fluffy, kittenish looks, she was a very practical person. "But here we are at 'The Red Pig. Nice and comfy, isn't it?"
See here" Paul displayed a parcel "a pound of sausages. You loved 'em at school, and I'm a superfine cook." Grexon Hay always used expression and word to hide his feelings. But with Paul whom he had always considered a generous ass at Torrington school a trifle of self-betrayal didn't matter much. Beecot was too dense, and, it may be added, too honest to turn any opportunity to advantage.
Early next day the cause of the commotion, not having swerved a hair's-breadth from the path he had marked out, took leave of his mother, and a formal farewell of the gentleman who described himself as the best of fathers. Beecot senior, turkey-cock and tyrant, was more subdued now that he found bluster would not carry his point. But the wave of common-sense came too late.
"I expect he got drunk every night," said Paul, thinking. "When he locked up Sylvia and Deborah in the upper room I can understand now why he did so he could go to the cellar and take possession of the shop key left on the nail by Bart. Then, free from all intrusion, he could drink till reeling. Not that I think he ever did reel," went on Beecot, mindful of what Mrs.
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