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Updated: May 6, 2025
"Brought some recruits, Cranley?" asked the Banker, adding, as he looked at his hand, "J'en donne!" and becoming absorbed in his game again. "The game you do not understand?" said Cranley to one of his recruits. "Not quite," said the lad, shaking his head. "All right; I will soon show you all about it; and I wouldn't play, if I were you, till you know all about it.
Young Wright went for the spirits, while the frightened old lawyer kept murmuring: "The Honorable Thomas Cranley was always very unsatisfactory!" It had been explained to the old gentleman that an impostor would be unmasked, and a criminal arrested; but he had not been informed that the culprit was the son of his great client, Lord Birkenhead.
The very instrument, it might be said, which stamped Cranley as Johnson, slew Johnson himself, and the process which hallmarked the prisoner as the heir of vast wealth stigmatized him with the brand of Cain.
He is; determined to be married before next Bank Holiday in a fortnight that is and then they will go on their honeymoon of three days to Yarmouth." Mr. Cranley blessed the luck that had not made the plumber a yet more impetuous wooer. "No laggard in love," he said, smiling. "Well, in a fortnight the two women will be quite ready for their new place.
John Deloraine had welcomed her new guest, she turned, and found that Mr. Cranley was looking out of the window. His position was indeed agonizing, and, in the circumstances, a stronger heart might have blanched at the encounter. When Cranley last met Maitland, he had been the guest of that philanthropist, and he had gone from his table to swindle his fellow-revellers.
"There is no need," interrupted Maitland. "Mr. Cranley and I have known each other for some time. I don't think we have met," he added, looking at Cranley, "since you dined with me at the Olympic, and we are not likely to meet again, I'm afraid; for to-morrow, as I have come to tell Mrs. Si John Deloraine, I go to Paris on business of importance." Mr.
"This is the man against whom you have the warrant," he went on, as young Wright opened the door and admitted two policemen. "I charge the Honorable Thomas Cranley with murder!" The officers lifted the fallen man. "Let him be," said Barton. "He has collapsed. Lay him on the floor: he's better so. He needs a turn of my profession: his heart's weak. Bring some brandy."
Cranley had even given up to her his own rooms in Victoria Square, and had lodged elsewhere; his exact address Margaret did not know. The only really delicate point Cranley's assumption of the name of "Mr. Lithgow" he frankly confessed to her as soon as they were well out of the Dovecot.
John Deloraine, clasping her hands in a pretty attitude of entreaty, like a recording angel hesitating to enter the peccadillo of a favorite saint; "please don't say you know anything against Mr. Cranley. I am aware that he has many enemies." Barton was silent for a minute.
"I must have one shy," said Martin, one of the boys who had hitherto stood with Barton, behind the Banker, looking on. He was a gaudy youth with a diamond stud, rich, and not fond of losing. He staked five pounds and won; he left the whole sum on and lost, lost again, a third time, and then said, "May I draw a cheque?" "Of course you may," Cranley answered.
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