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"The night is growing late and I want to get to the bottom of this business before we go to bed. Take some rum." Seeing there was nothing for it but to make a clean breast, Captain Jarvey Jessop wasted no further time in useless lamentation. He could have smashed Hurd easily enough, even though there was the risk of being shot.
I can't hurt you; but that girl, Sylvia she shall never get one penny so, remember!" Hurd shook her off, and, stepping into the cab, drove away. Mrs. Krill looked apprehensively at him. "What did Maud say?" she asked. Hurd told her, and Mrs. Krill closed her lips firmly. "Maud is quite right," she said with a strange smile. "Sylvia will never get the money."
I have not learnt whether he had any other preferment. Hurd, in a letter written in 1768, mentions that the death of a Dr. Atwell threw a good living into his hands. Be this as it might, he was rich enough, and had an annual income of about fifteen hundred pounds at his death. Lord Orford says of him somewhere in his letters, that he intended to have refused a bishopric if it had been offered him.
The wife sprang up with a cry and ran into the kitchen, where Hurd was already on his feet between Jenkins and another policeman, who were to convey him to the gaol at Widrington. But when she came face to face with her husband something perhaps the nervous appeal in his strained eyes checked her, and she controlled herself piteously. She did not even attempt to kiss him.
She had spent the morning in the Hurds' cottage, sitting by Mrs. Hurd and nursing the little boy.
The keeper big, burly, prosperous would speak to him with insolent patronage, watching him all the time, or with the old brutality, which Hurd dared not resent. Only in his excitable dwarf's sense hate grew and throve, very soon to monstrous proportions. Westall's menacing figure darkened all his sky for him.
An' always I knew the man of whom I must ask. So I never really lost the trail, though for many years it was the dimmest trail ever followed by any man. "Then come a change in my luck. Along in Central Utah I rounded up Hurd, an' I whispered somethin' in his ear, an' watched his face, an' then throwed a gun against his bowels.
Marcella put her arm round the shaking woman. The door opened; and beyond the three figures as they passed out, her eye passed to the waiting crowd, then to the misty expanse of common and the dark woods behind, still wrapped in fog. When Mrs. Hurd saw the rows of people waiting within a stone's throw of the door she shrank back.
Besides" here Hurd hesitated "No! I'll tell you that later." "Tell me what?" "Something about Hay that will astonish you and make you think he has something to do with the crime. Meanwhile, learn all you can from Mrs. Krill." "If I meet her," said Paul, with a shrug.
"He may marry Maud," said Hurd, emphatically, "but he certainly won't get the five thousand a year. Miss Norman will." "Hold on," cried Aurora, shrewdly. "Maud may not be Lemuel Krill's child, or she may have been born before Krill married the mother, but in any case, Sylvia Norman isn't the child of a legal marriage. Krill certainly committed bigamy, so his daughter Sylvia can't inherit."
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