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Updated: May 3, 2025
Then I sat up in my chair with a start. My cigarette had burnt out, my coffee was cold. I had been asleep, and outside some one was knocking at my' front door. I had sent Grooton to the village with letters, and I was alone in the place. I sprang from my chair just as the handle of the door was turned and a woman stepped quietly in.
"Do these reports concern me, Grooton?" I asked. "They do, sir." "Go ahead, then," I told him. "They refer also, sir," he said, "to the man who was found dead near the cottage where you used to live in January last.
Can you lower me a lantern, and I will see if I can climb up?" Grooton hastened back to the cottage. "I think you will be all right," I cried out. "It is not half as steep as it looks." "I believe," he answered, "that I can see a path up. But I will wait until the lantern comes." The lantern arrived almost immediately. We lowered it to him by a rope, and he examined the face of the cliff.
We saw the ground crumble beneath his feet, and with a second cry of despair he disappeared. Grooton, Lady Angela, and I reached the edge of the cliff at about the same moment. We peered over in breathless anxiety. Lady Angela clutched my arm, and for a moment I did not in the least care what had happened to the Prince. "Don't be frightened," I whispered. "The descent is not by any means sheer.
It was almost like a corner of some forgotten land. These walks, and an occasional few hours' reading, were my sole recreation. It was late in the afternoon when I saw a shadow pass my window, and immediately afterwards there was a timid knock at the door. Grooton had gone on his daily pilgrimage with letters to the village, so I was obliged to open it myself.
"What about lunch?" I asked, glancing at the clock. "None for me," he answered. "Some tea at four o'clock, if I may have it. I will be back by then." He swung off, and I was thankful, for my work demanded my whole attention and very careful thought. At a few minutes after four he returned, and Grooton brought us some tea.
"He has been at the house all day, your Grace." The Duke appeared to hesitate for a moment. "Grooton," he said, "I rely upon you to see that Lord Cheisford has this note shortly. I am going for a little walk, and shall probably return this way. I wish you to understand that this note is for Lord Chelsford's own hand." "Certainly, your Grace."
He set out with the intention of calling upon you, and he was found dead in the morning by you, sir, within a hundred yards of where you were living." "Anything else, Grooton?" "There is a lot of foolish talk, sir.
"I hope that you are comfortable," she said. "A couple of hours is short notice in which to make a place habitable." "Grooton is a magician," I told her. "He has arranged everything." "He is a wonderful servant," she said thoughtfully. A white-winged bird floated over our heads and drifted away skywards. She followed it with her eyes. "You wonder at seeing me so early," she murmured.
"Why, Angela," he exclaimed, "you look as though you had seen a ghost. Is anything the matter?" "Oh, I am afraid so," she answered. "Have you seen my father?" "Why?" he asked, fingering the note which Grooton had silently laid upon the table. "Something has happened!" she exclaimed. "I am sure of it. Last night he came to me before dinner. He told me that Blenavon was in trouble.
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