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Updated: June 23, 2025


But that's no evidence for the police; and, anyway, this Glasson can't touch you until he gets hold of the children. If you'll leave it to me, he shan't do that for twenty-four hours. And now isn't it time you were packing up your show? You'll be gettin' back to the boat to-night, I suppose? What about the Mortimers?"

There is one at Fair Anchor at 4.35, and after that no other until the 7.12, which picks up the evening mail at Taunton. You are on foot, I understand, and will certainly not catch the first unless you let my man drive you over." Doctor Glasson was evidently anxious to get away at the earliest moment. He protested, with many thanks, that he was trespassing on her kindness.

Maybe you read of it in the papers?" Tears by this time filled the child's eyes. She was casting about to invent a last dying speech for her mother, when Doctor Glasson interrupted. "If your aunt wishes to place you here, it might perhaps be managed, for a consideration. Just now we have no room for-er non-paying children. But you began by asking for Arthur Miles." "Surname Chandon."

Miss Sally unfolded a scrap of pinkish-coloured paper. "I left them in good keeping with an honest farmer and his wife tenants of mine; I had a telegram sent to the boy's father, who is abroad; and I posted up here by night mail to satisfy myself by a few inquiries." "You've seen Glasson, then?" Mr. Hucks interrupted. "I have; but not in any way you suspect.

What's more, I'll give no promise to help not to-night, anyway. But I'm goin' to look into this, and to-morrow I'll tell you if we play the hand together. To-morrow at nine-thirty, if that suits? If not, you can go and get the police to help." "Time may be precious," hesitated Glasson. "Mine is, anyway," Mr. Hucks retorted. "Let me see you out. No, it's no trouble.

It did not resemble an ordinary bargee's. But at the moment he could no more check the explosion of his wrath than you can hold back a cork in the act of popping from a bottle of soda-water. "Curse your laziness!" exploded Mr. Gavel; "and this is your notion of searching for me, is it?" "It appears to be a pretty successful one," said Dr. Glasson.

"She promised to call here at twelve-thirty, an' I was to meet her. But" here Tilda had to keep a tight hold on her voice "per'aps I'm early?" "It's close upon one o'clock," said Doctor Glasson, with a glance towards the mantelshelf. "What is your aunt's name, and her business?" "She's called Brown Martha Brown Mrs.

"No; he's at Monte Carlo. His address, the Grand Hotel. Guess again." "Don't be foolish and waste time. The children may be arriving at any minute." "You must keep 'em out of the way, then." "Why?" "Because I've brought him." "'Him'? You'll excuse me " "Glasson." "Glasson?" Her eyes opened wide. "You've brought Glasson? Well, I must say you're clever."

But the gate was lined on the inside with wire-netting, and the garden wall was neither to be leapt nor scaled. In the porch Dr. Glasson stood aside to let the servant precede them into the house, looked after her until she vanished down the length of a dark passage that smelt potently of soapsuds and cabbage-water, and motioned the child to step within.

Hucks guardedly, "and he mightn't; and then again he might be more able than willin'." "Must I remind you, Mr. Hucks, that a person who abets or connives at the sort of thing we are discussing is likely to find himself in trouble? or that even a refusal of information may be awkwardly construed?" "Now see here, Glasson" Mr.

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