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Updated: May 1, 2025
If death occurs en route, it has to be provided for in the simplest and most practical form. At least, I can answer that such was the case with regard to Fred Massingbird. He was buried in the clothes he wore when he died." Lionel was lost in abstraction. "He died at early dawn, just as the sun burst out to illumine the heavens, and at midday he was buried," continued Captain Cannonby.
The lamp, which had been turned on to its full blaze of light, was behind them, so that they might have been visible enough to anybody standing in the nearer portion of the grounds. "Captain Cannonby went away with Frederick Massingbird," observed Lionel, approaching by degrees to the questions he wished to ask. "Did they start together?" "Yes. Don't talk about it, Lionel."
No opportunity, then, to question her about Frederick Massingbird's death, and how far Captain Cannonby was cognisant of the particulars. He had to change his own things. It was barely done by dinner-time; and he sat down to table, the host of many guests. His brow was smooth, his speech was courtly; how could any of them suspect that a terrible dread was gnawing at his heart?
Few men are in it at this season." "If they can get out. But Dr. Cannonby can't. He is a physician, and must stop at his post, season or no season." "I am going up to town to-day," remarked Lionel, "and " "You are! For long?" "Back to-morrow, I hope; perhaps to-night. If you will give me the address, I'll copy it down." Lionel wrote it down; but Mr.
"Then who is it that walks about, dressed up as his ghost?" debated Jan. "I cannot tell," said Lionel, a severe expression arising to his lips. "I begin to think with Captain Cannonby; that there can be no doubt that Frederick Massingbird is dead; therefore, he, it is not.
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