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Updated: May 29, 2025
She shuddered. "What will they do to him?" "He'll be imprisoned for life," was the reply "and I rather think that's a little worse than the guillotine. You say you worry for Jean I'm rather sorry for old man Briggerland. If he hadn't tried to live up to his daughter he might have been a most respectable member of society."
"You will come to-morrow night No. 6, the first cubicle on the left," he whispered, "you will not fail me? If I thought you'd fail me " His eyes lit up again. "I shall not fail you," said Mr. Briggerland hastily. "When the clock strikes twelve you may expect me."
We didn't find that out till after the trial. Poor Meredith was in the hall when the shot was fired. The signal was given when he turned the handle to let himself out. He heard the shot, rushed down the steps and saw the body. Whether he picked up the pistol or not, I do not know. Jean Briggerland swears he had it in his hand, but, of course, Jean Briggerland is a hopeless liar!"
"It wouldn't be remarkable if I inherited a little of your yellow streak," she said coolly, and he growled something under his breath. "No, my nerves are all right, but a cigarette helps me to think." "A yellow streak, have I?" Mr. Briggerland was annoyed. "And I've been out since five o'clock this morning " he stopped. "Doing what?" she asked curiously.
"Could Jaggs get us out of our trouble too?" he asked sarcastically. "He could even do that," replied Jack. "Then bring him along, for I have an idea he'll have the time of his life." Miss Jean Briggerland reached her home in Berkeley Street soon after nine o'clock.
Muley Hafiz was looking across at her; his eyes immediately sought the girl's, and he bowed slightly. "What the devil is he bowing at?" grumbled Mr. Briggerland. "You didn't take any notice of him, did you, Jean?" "I bowed to him," said his daughter, not troubling to look round. "Don't be silly, father; anyway, if he weren't nice, it would be quite the right thing to do.
"You can't know what you're saying," said Lydia in a low voice. "It is a dreadful charge to make, dreadful, against a girl whose very face refutes such an accusation." "Her face is her fortune," snapped Jack, and then penitently, "I'm sorry I'm rude, but somehow the very mention of Jean Briggerland arouses all that is worst in me. Now, you will accept Jaggs, won't you?" "Who is he?" she asked.
"To suggest, as you have through your counsel, that you called at Miss Briggerland's that night to break off your engagement and that the interview was a mild one and unattended by recriminations is to suggest that this lady has deliberately committed perjury in order to swear away your life, and when to that disgraceful charge you produce a motive, namely that by your death or imprisonment Miss Briggerland, who is your cousin, would benefit to a considerable extent, you merely add to your infamy.
"You lucky people to be in this paradise!" he said. "It is raining like the dickens in London, and miserable beyond description. And you're looking brown and beautiful, Miss Briggerland." "The spirit of the warm south has got into your blood, Mr. Glover," she said sarcastically. "A course at the Riviera would make you almost human." "And what would make you human?" asked Jack blandly.
I fear a poor husband and a procession of children, and doing the housework with an incompetent maid, or maybe without any at all. Those are the things I fear, Mr. Briggerland." She dusted the ash from her dress and got up. "I haven't forgotten the life we lived at Ealing," she said significantly.
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