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Updated: June 10, 2025
And in the dock Krevin Crood also let a start of astonishment escape him; he, too, stared at Louisa Speck, and a frown showed itself between his eyebrows, as if he were endeavouring to explain her presence to himself. Suddenly it cleared, and he indulged his fancies with a sharp laugh, and turning to Simon made some whispered observation.
"A terrible affair, this, Mr. Brent!" he said as they walked along. "And a most extraordinary one too it'll be more than a nine days' wonder here. A deep mystery, sir, and I question if you'll get much light on it where you're going." "You said that Alderman Crood knew everything," observed Brent. "Ay!" answered Peppermore, with a short laugh.
Now then, this young man, my informant, has some relations here in Hathelsborough; a day or so before Simon Crood called with his machine, they sent him the young man a copy of the Monitor with this facsimile letter enclosed. Being concerned with such things in his trade, he was naturally interested in the facsimile, and of course, as an expert, he noticed the broken letters.
He saw that all three men, instead of being anxious to give him information, were actuated by the same desire to find out what he knew, to hear what he had to say. Crood, as Brent seated himself, waved a hand towards the decanters on the table. "You'll try a little drop o' something, Mr. Brent?" he said, with insinuating hospitality. "A taste of whisky, now?
But hullo! as nobody's come forward this morning, Krevin's treating himself to a drink! That's his way he'll get his drink for nothing, if he can, but, if he can't, he's always got money. Old cadger!" Brent was watching Krevin Crood. As Peppermore had just said, nobody had joined Krevin at the bar.
The girl glanced towards the end of the hall and then looked at him doubtfully. "What name?" she inquired in tones that were little above a whisper. "My name's Brent," the caller answered, in a clear, loud voice. Somehow, he had a suspicion that Crood was listening at the other end of the cavernous hall. "I am Mr. Wallingford's cousin."
Krevin Crood, sir, draws a hundred and fifty-six pounds a year out of the revenues of this rotten little borough all because he's Simon's brother. Been drawing that three pounds a week for fifteen years now. It's a scandal! However, as I say, he once had two thousand a year." "A difference," remarked Brent. "Ay, well, he adds a bit to his three pound," said Peppermore.
"Well, Mrs. Mallett went away that day to visit her sister, Mrs. Coppinger, for a day or two. About noon Mr. Mallett told me and cook that he wanted to have some gentlemen to dinner that evening, and we were to prepare accordingly." "I see. Sort of special dinner, eh?" "Yes." "Did the gentlemen come?" "Yes." "Who were they?" "Mr. Coppinger and Alderman Crood." "What time was that?"
Because I utterly refuse to be a cat's paw in the hands of the Town Trustees any longer! Those are my reasons." Tansley dug his elbow into Brent's ribs as an irrepressible murmur of surprise broke out all round the court. But Brent was watching the men in the dock. Krevin Crood smiled cynically; the smile developed into a short, sharp laugh.
"Ay!" said Hawthwaite. "As I said just now, I'd have given a good deal to know. But Krevin Crood is a deep, designing, secret sort of man, and that woman, whoever she may be, looks just the same." "Has she been with Mrs. Saumarez long?" asked Brent. "Came with her, when Mrs. Saumarez first came and took the Abbey House," replied Hawthwaite. "Always been with her; went away with her when Mrs.
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