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Most of the sheets, in excusing the paucity of biographical detail, had remarked that Priam Farll was utterly unknown to London society, of a retiring disposition, hating publicity, a recluse, etc.
Even without an inquest, he saw that the affair would be unthinkably distressing. He felt that it would kill him, and he put his hand to his face. "Where are Mr. Farll's relatives to be found?" the doctor asked. "Mr. Farll's relatives?" Priam Farll repeated without comprehending. Then he understood. Dr. Cashmore thought that Henry Leek's name was Farll!
Apparently she forgave. Said Lady Sophia simply, "Now, Mr. Farll, shall I have to give evidence or not? You know it depends on you?" The casualness of her tone was sublime; it was heroic; it made her feet small. He had sworn to himself that he would be cut in pieces before he would aid the unscrupulous Mr. Oxford by removing his collar in presence of those dramatic artistes.
I say there's been a a misunderstanding about er corpses. Now, cher maître, what do you think of my position?" Mr. Oxford drummed lightly on the table. "I don't know," said Priam. Which was another lie. "You are Priam Farll, aren't you?" Mr. Oxford persisted. "Well, if you will have it," said Priam savagely, "I am. And now you know!" Mr. Oxford let his smile go.
The penny evening papers were pro-Farll, one of them furiously so. You gathered that if Priam Farll was not buried in Westminster Abbey the penny evening papers would, from mere disgust, wipe their boots on Dover cliffs and quit England eternally for some land where art was understood.
I could imagine the possibility of a really clever man coming along and imitating Farll so well that only people like yourself, maître, and perhaps me, could tell the difference. It's just the kind of work that might be brilliantly imitated, if the imitator was clever enough, don't you think?" "But what do you mean?" asked Priam, perspiring in his back. "Well," said Mr.
Music, the midnight food of love, floated scarce heard through the tinted atmosphere. It was the best imitation of Roman luxury that London could offer, and after Selwood Terrace and the rackety palace of no gratuities, Priam Farll enjoyed it as one enjoys home after strange climes.
At that moment Alice, who had followed him by a later train, appeared. "Good-morning, Lady Sophia," he said, raising his hat, and left her. Thoughts on Justice "Farll takes his collar off." "Witt v. Parfitts. Result." These and similar placards flew in the Strand breezes. It was an epoch-making act. It finished the drama of Witt v. Parfitts.
Farll being dead, I knew you'd have a lot to do, besides being upset like." "Oh yes," he said quickly, feeling that he must be more careful; for he had quite forgotten that Mr. Farll was dead. "How did you know?" "How did I know!" she cried. "Well, I like that! Look anywhere! It's all over London, has been these six hours."
This menu was exceedingly long it comprised everything except gratuities and, evidently knowing from experience that it was not a document to be perused and exhausted in five minutes, the man in evening dress took care not to interrupt the studies of Priam Farll and Alice Challice during a full quarter of an hour.
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