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Updated: May 10, 2025
I believe Mr. Mallett will agree with that and Mr. Coppinger." "A great deal thought of," answered Mallett. "By, I should say, everybody," added Coppinger. "He was, of course, a comparative stranger," continued Crood. "Twelve years only had he been amongst us and now cut off, sudden and malicious, at the beginning of his career! But well thought of, sir, well thought of!"
Then, thinking of Alderman Crood, he remembered Alderman Crood's niece; her request to him; his promise to her. He had been puzzled, not a little taken aback by the girl's eager, anxious manner.
"What have you done about it?" asked Brent. Hawthwaite gave him a knowing look. "Well, I'll tell you that too," he answered. "I've got the machine! It's there in that box in the corner. The Clothford firm will make an excuse to Mr. Crood that they've had to send this machine away for repairs eh? Of course I'm not going to let it out of my possession until well, until we know more."
Lawrence Churchyard to the Mayor's Parlour, or from the Mayor's Parlour to St. Lawrence Churchyard." A murmur of comprehension and understanding ran round the court: most of the people present knew St. Lawrence Lane and the Moot Hall as well as Krevin Crood knew them; his suggestion appealed to their common sense. And Tansley, with a sudden start, turned to Brent. "That's done it!" he whispered.
Brent, so stick to abstract principles, sir, and eschew those saucy personal touches which I regret deeply I can't print." Brent had no intention of indulging in personalities in his warfare with Simon Crood and the reactionaries, but as the day of the election approached he discovered that his adversaries were not at all particular about putting forth highly personal references to himself.
Lawrence Lane," he remarked. "But I want some formal evidence about it that can be put on the record. I see Mr. Krevin Crood there I believe Mr. Crood is as big an authority on Hathelsborough as anybody living perhaps he'll oblige me by coming forward." Krevin Crood, sitting at the front of the densely-packed mass of spectators, rose and walked into the witness-box.
I don't care how hard the life is, nor how hard I'd have to work it would be what I want, and better than this anyway!" "You aren't happy in this town?" suggested Brent. Queenie gave an eloquent glance out of her dark eyes. "Happy!" she exclaimed scornfully. "Shut up in that house with Simon Crood! Would you be? You saw something of it last night.
Brent glanced at the superintendent, who was exchanging whispers with the Coroner's officer, and from him to the crowded seats that ran round three sides of the court. All the notabilities of Hathelsborough were there again, in full force: Simon Crood, in a seat of honour, as befitted his new dignity of Mayor; Mallett; Coppinger, anybody and everybody of consequence.
Lawrence church?" "I am!" "Do you live in a cottage at the corner of St. Lawrence churchyard?" "I do!" "Do you remember the evening on which Mr. Wallingford was murdered?" "Yes." "At seven o'clock of that evening were you in your cottage?" "I was!" "Did Mr. Krevin Crood come to your cottage door about seven o'clock and ask you for the keys of St. Lawrence?" "He did!"
Vested interests, my boy! ancient tree, with roots firmly fixed in the piled-up soil, strata upon strata, of a thousand years! You're not going to pull up these roots, my lad!" "How'll Simon Crood smash me?" demanded Brent quietly. "As to the exact how," answered Tansley, "can't say! Mole work but he'll set the majority of the electors in that Castle Ward against you."
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