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Updated: May 18, 2025
"Come into the house," he said putting down his saw. "I'm glad to see you," and when our hero had entered the little farmhouse he was introduced to Mrs. Greggs and two grown-up sons, all of whom made him feel thoroughly at home. "To tell the truth," said Mr. Greggs, "I did not know William Bodley very well. I came here looking for a farm and heard this was for sale, and struck a bargain with him."
In the carriages they were seated as before. The horses started up, with the smaller cab but a dozen paces behind. Mary Gowd leaned forward. She began to speak her voice very low, her accent clearly English, her brevity wonderfully American. "Listen to me!" she said. "You must leave Rome to-night!" "Leave Rome to-night!" echoed the Greggs as though rehearsing a duet. "Be quiet!
Ford would be certain to object. She's not the kind of lady who likes to see other people enjoying themselves." "He wouldn't do the like," said Mary Ellen. "I wouldn't trust him," said Dr. O'Grady. Moriarty was, in fact, waiting for Mary Ellen about a hundred yards from the gate of the Greggs' house. Dr. O'Grady rebuked him sharply.
Seeing the Lintons and the Greggs arrive, he craftily awaited his opportunity, and slipped off, to give them a turn on the gridiron. First Linton was secured; and you should have seen him roll his mute, appealing orbs, as he settled helplessly down under the infliction. Suddenly he made a dash. "I am ignorant of these matters," said he; "but Gregg understands them; Gregg will talk with you."
Little heeding these symptoms, which he ascribed to cold and want of food, and rather agreeably surprised not to feel the gnaw of his accustomed pains, Jasper now betook himself to Podden Place. The house was still unclosed; and it was not till Jasper's knock had been pretty often repeated, that the bolts were withdrawn from the door, and Bridgett Greggs appeared. "Oh, it is you, Mr.
"Not me but Augustus Greggs who bought his farm might know about it." "I'll take you to the Greggs' farm for ten cents," put in the stage driver. Again a bargain was struck, and a drive of ten minutes brought them to the farm, located on the outskirts of Millville. They found the farm owner at work by his wood pile, sawing wood. He was a pleasant appearing individual.
He kept Pony covered with his left hand while the polished barrel of the revolver in his right seemed to have a roving commission all over the room, to the nervous dread of many respectable persons who cowered within range. When he reached the door he said to Pony: "I hope you'll excuse me, Greggs, but this is too good an opportunity to miss. I'm going to kill you in your tracks."
"Then it was Greggs murdered Roddy and tried to drug me! ... By George, I'd like to know whether the police got there before Bannon, or somebody else, discovered the substitution. It was a telegram to the police, you know, I sent from the Bourse last night!"
The Lintons and Greggs are people of the world, who would hardly have cared to wait for a blessing on such lovely heaps of strawberries and mugs of cream as they saw before them; but, there being two clergymen at the table, the ceremony was evidently expected.
He told himself it wasn't altogether the professional jealousy of De Morbihan, Popinot and Wertheimer; it was the strange, rancorous spite that animated Bannon. But, again, why? Could it be that Bannon so resented the aid and encouragement Lanyard had afforded the girl in her abortive attempt to escape? Or was it, perhaps, that Bannon held Lanyard responsible for the arrest and death of Greggs?
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