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Updated: June 14, 2025
Gillingham was so interested in Phillotson's affairs, and so seriously concerned about him, that he walked up the hill-side to Shaston two or three times a week, although, there and back, it was a journey of nine miles, which had to be performed between tea and supper, after a hard day's work in school.
"Wait a moment, Inspector. Here's Mr. Gillingham. He'd better come with us." And then to Antony, "This is Inspector Birch." Birch looked inquiringly from one to the other. "Mr. Gillingham and I found the body together," explained Cayley. "Oh! Well, come along, and let's get the facts sorted out a bit. I like to know where I am, Mr. Gillingham." "We all do." "Oh!" He looked at Antony with interest.
He had no sooner entered than the voice of his friend Gillingham greeted him from the front room. "I could make nobody hear; so finding your door open I walked in, and made myself comfortable. I said I would call, you remember." "Yes. I am much obliged to you, Gillingham, particularly for coming to-night." "How is Mrs. "She is quite well. She is gone just gone.
He was dispossessed as a "malignant" during the Commonwealth, but returned at the Restoration. Gillingham cannot show many old houses and it has the appearance of a busy and flourishing manufacturing town of the smaller sort without any of the sordid accompaniments of such places.
Gillingham had evidently been impressed with the indefinable charm of Sue, and after a silence he said, "Well: you've all but got her again at last. She can't very well go a second time. The pear has dropped into your hand." "Yes! ... I suppose I am right in taking her at her word. I confess there seems a touch of selfishness in it.
"It seems to me, Mr. Gillingham, that you know the house pretty well, considering that this is the first time you've been to it." Antony laughed. "Oh, well, I notice things, you know. I was born noticing. But I'm right, aren't I, about why he went out this way?" "Yes, I think you are." Cayley looked away towards the shrubbery. "Do you want to go noticing in there now?" He nodded at it.
"You know, you can't just say, 'Oh er hallo! to him," said Antony, breaking rather appropriately into his thoughts. Bill looked up at him with a start. "Nor," went on Antony, "can you say, 'This is my friend Mr. Gillingham, who is staying with you. We were just going to have a game of bowls." "Yes, it's dashed difficult. I don't know what to say. I've been rather forgetting about Mark."
He was the son of Edward Young, at that time Fellow of Winchester College, and Rector of Upham, who was the son of Jo. Young, of Woodhay, in Berkshire, styled by Wood, GENTLEMAN. In September, 1682, the poet's father was collated to the prebend of Gillingham Minor, in the church of Sarum, by Bishop Ward.
He went over the whole story again from the beginning was there any possibility of a mistake? What would the police do? Would they ever find out? Ought he to have told them? Well, let them find out; it was their job. Surely he couldn't have made a mistake this time. No good wondering now; he would know definitely in the morning. In the morning there was a letter for him. "My Dear Mr. Gillingham,
He had understood by the colour of the horse left at Nottingham which road to take, and at the hostel at Hull had encountered Gillingham, who directed him on to Mr. Heatherthwayte's. What he brought himself to tell of the last scene at Fotheringhay has been mostly recorded by history, and need not here be dwelt upon.
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