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Updated: May 4, 2025
But it never crossed his mind that Hay was anything else but what he appeared to be a man-about-town with a sufficient income to live upon comfortably. Had Paul doubted he would never have asked Grexon to go with him to Gwynne Street. However, he had done so, and the appointment was made, so there was no more to be said. The man-about-town duly made his appearance to the very minute.
There's an inscription on the portrait 'From Grexon to Maud with much love' sweet, isn't it? when you think what an icicle the man is. There is also a date two years ago the photograph was given. I admired the photograph and asked the landlady who was the swell." "What's the landlady's name?" "Matilda Junk." Hurd almost jumped from his seat.
An admirable example of self-control was Grexon Hay. On the other hand, Beecot was slight, tall and dark, with an eager manner and a face which revealed his thoughts. His complexion was swart; he had large black eyes, a sensitive mouth, and a small moustache smartly twisted upward.
You are fixed up with enough to live on, and a prospect of making more. Your young lady is happy enough with that grenadier of a woman in spite of the humbleness of the home. Mrs. Krill and her daughter are enjoying the five thousand a year, and Mr. Grexon Hay is fleecing that young ass, Lord George Sandal, as easily as possible. I stand by and watch everything.
All the same, Grexon Hay is a man on the market." "You made use of that expression before. What does it mean?" "Ask Mr. Hay. He can explain best." "I did ask him, and he said it meant a man who was on the marriage market." Hurd laughed. "Very ingenious and untrue." "Untrue!" "Certainly. Mr. Hay knows better than that. If that were all he wouldn't think a working man would warn anyone against him."
Some people hate cats and other fluttering birds. Your one-eyed friend may have a loathing of snakes and can't bear to see the representation of one." "It might be that," said Beecot, after a pause. "Aaron is a strange sort of chap. A man with a past, I should say." "You make me curious," said Grexon, laughing in a bored manner. "I think I'll go to the shop myself and have a look at him."
Hay described the married lady he adored, and Paul rebuked him for entertaining such a passion. "It's not right, Hay," said he, positively; "you can't respect a woman who runs away from her husband." "She hasn't run away yet, Sir Galahad," laughed Grexon. "By Jove, you are an innocent!"
Beecot's name?" asked Hay, calmly. "Lor', sir. Didn't you and me pull him from under the wheels?" "Oh," said Grexon, suddenly enlightened, "were you the boy? Since you have washed your face I didn't recognize you. Well, Beecot, you look disturbed." "I have reason to.
In a few minutes Miss Junk, of "The Red Pig," learned that Miss Qian was suddenly summoned to town and would leave in an hour. Quite unsuspectingly she assisted her to pack, and shortly Aurora was driving in a hired vehicle to the railway station on her way to trap Grexon Hay.
"That man of the working creature," said Hay, absently. "Pooh, the man was no more a working man than I am." "Well, I thought myself he was a bit of a fraud." "Detectives never do make up well," said Grexon, calmly. Paul stopped as they turned into Oxford Street. "What? Was the man a detective?" "I think so, from your description of his conversation.
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