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Updated: May 20, 2025
Folliot, it's pretty well known, wants her son to marry Miss Bewery Dr. Ransford's ward. Probably she doesn't wish any suspicion to hang over the family. That's all I can suggest. In the other case, Ransford wants to clear himself. For don't forget this, Mitchington! somewhere, somebody may know something! Only something.
"A pretty coil!" he said with a sneer. "Here! You talked about my price. I'm quite content to hold my tongue if you'd tell me something about what happened seventeen years ago." "What?" asked Folliot. "You knew Brake, you must have known his family affairs," said Bryce. "What became of Brake's wife and children when he went to prison?"
And he was still considering the best way of putting his case to her when, having failed to meet her on the way, he at last turned into the Close, and as he approached Ransford's house, saw Mrs. Folliot leaving it. Mary Bewery, like Bryce, had been having a day of events.
She had to pass the Folliots' house in the far corner of the Close on her way home a fine old mansion set in well-wooded grounds, enclosed by a high wall of old red brick. A door in that wall stood open, and inside it, talking to one of his gardeners, was Mr. Folliot the vistas behind him were gay with flowers and rich with the roses which he passed all his days in cultivating.
There must be some reason." "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, Mrs. Folliot," answered Bryce, whose ears had already lengthened. "Has Dr. Ransford been laying flowers on a grave? I didn't know of it. My engagement with Dr. Ransford terminated two days ago so I've seen nothing of him." "My son, Mr. Sackville Bonham," said Mrs.
"I mean about recent matters," replied Bryce. "I've interested myself in them for reasons of my own. Ever since Braden was found at the foot of those stairs in Paradise, and I was fetched to him, I've interested myself. And I've discovered a great deal more, much more than's known to anybody." Folliot threw one leg over the other and began to jog his foot. "Oh!" he said after a pause. "Dear me!
He was wondering if it would be wise to instil some minute drop of poison into the lady's mind, there to increase in potency and in due course to spread. "I of course, I may have been mistaken I certainly thought Dr. Ransford seemed unusually agitated by this affair it appeared to upset him greatly." "So I have heard from others who were at the inquest," responded Mrs. Folliot.
He had to stand the racket. He stood it to the tune of ten years' penal servitude. And, naturally, when he'd finished his time, he wanted to find those two men and began a long search for them. Like to know the names of the men, Mr. Folliot?" "You might mention 'em if you know 'em," answered Folliot. "The name of the particular one was Wraye Falkiner Wraye," replied Bryce promptly.
Folliot was standing in the middle of the room, one hand behind his back, the other in his pocket. And as the leading three entered the place he brought his concealed hand sharply round and presenting a revolver at Glassdale fired point-blank at him. But it was not Glassdale who fell.
He nodded at a box of cigars which lay open on a table at Bryce's elbow as he began to mix a couple of drinks. "Help yourself," he said. "Good stuff, those." Not until he had given Bryce a drink, and had carried his own glass to another easy chair did Folliot refer to any reason for Bryce's visit. But once settled down, he looked at him speculatively.
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