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Braden, and leaned forward until he was within a very few inches of her pearl ear-ring. "He'll be chose all right d-don't fret he'll be chose." "My dear Mr. Braden, I've no doubt of it Mr. Crewe's so popular," she cried, removing her ear-ring abruptly from the danger zone. "Do make yourself at home," she added, and retired from Mr. Braden's company a trifle disconcerted, a new experience for Mrs.
"What you or your stepfather's aiming at comes to this, that suspicion rests on Braden's sharer in the secret. That it?" "And why not?" asked Sackville. "Look at what we know from the account in the paper this morning. This other chap, Glassdale, waits a bit until the first excitement about Braden is over, then he comes forward and tells the Duke where the Duchess's diamonds are planted. Why?
That isn't the point. It would be useless, that's all." "Then why isn't Braden's theory sound and humane?" she demanded sharply. He frowned. "It is humane, Mrs. Thorpe," said he gravely, "but it isn't sound. I grant you that there is not one of us who would not rejoice in the death of a man in Mr. Thorpe's condition, but there is not one who would deliberately take his life."
It was his desire,—or at least, so he said,—to remove from Braden's path every obstacle that might interfere with his becoming a great man and a credit to his name. By that, of course, he meant money unearned. He told me that most of his fortune was to go to Charitable and Scientific Institutions. I had his solemn word of honour that his grandson was to be in no sense a beneficiary under his will.
Crewe, although he was not wont to take a second place, followed Mr. Braden down the stairs to the door next to the governor's, where he pushed ahead of his guide, through the group about the doorway, none of whom, however, were attempting to enter. They stared in some surprise at Mr. Crewe as he flung open the door without knocking, and slammed it behind him in Mr. Braden's face.
He waited patiently in the background while the returned voyager dealt with the reporters, appearing abruptly at Braden's elbow as he was giving his keys to the inspector. "Good morning, sir," said Wade, in what must be recorded as a confidential tone. He might have been repeating the salutation of yesterday morning for all that his manner betrayed. "Hello, Wade! Glad to see you."
It may be that it was wrested from him in the gallery of the clerestory that morning, and that his assailant, or assailants for there may have been two men at the job afterwards pitched him through that open doorway, after half-stifling him. And if that theory's correct and I, personally, am now quite inclined to it it'll help a lot if you'll tell us what you know of Braden's Brake's antecedents.
If you mean that smooth-faced cuss that stutters and lives on Braden's Hill, I called on him, but he was out. If you see him, tell him to come up to Wedderburn, and I'll talk with him." Mr. Ball made a gesture to indicate a feeling divided between respect for Mr. Crewe and despair at the hardihood of such a proposition. "Lord bless you, sir, Job wouldn't go." "Wouldn't go?"
Wouldn't call me a brave man, would you?" "The cases are not parallel. Braden's case is different. He couldn't force Anne to—" "See here, Simmy," broke in George, wonderingly, "I hadn't noticed it before, but, by giminy, I believe you're tipsy. You've been drinking, Simmy. No sober man would talk as you do.
Braden's philanthropic and beaming countenance, which would have made the fortune of a bishop. It was not usual for Mr. Crewe to find it difficult to begin a conversation, or to have a companion as self-sufficient as himself.
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