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Updated: May 11, 2025
"Well, she hasn't given him up. They correspond, I believe. But he is far enough away at present. He is in South Africa. She'll never marry him with my approval. I'm pretty certain now that the fellow is a rotter." "She probably deems herself very heroic for sticking to him in spite of opposition," observed Mrs. Ingleton. "Very likely," he conceded. "But I think she genuinely cares for him.
Twenty-two years ago he was a boy of 16 a fine, high- spirited Ingleton. Like a fool, I thought I could bring him up to be a fine man. But I failed I only spoiled him. He grew up wild, self- willed, obstinate a sorrow to his mother, an enemy to his father. The day came when we quarrelled. I accused him unjustly of fraud. He retorted insolently. In my passion I struck him, and he struck back.
As he spoke the hideous freedom of his empty life seemed to gather itself together, and to flow stealthily upon him like a filthy wave bearing refuse upon its surface. "I'm a free agent," he added, looking hard at Lady Ingleton. "I have no ties." He shook her hand and went away.
Clarke's hypocrisy had, perhaps, for the first time, absolutely disgusted, and even almost horrified, Lady Ingleton. For years Lady Ingleton had known of it, but for years she had almost admired it. The cleverness, the subtlety, the competence of it had entertained her mind. She had respected, too, the courage which never failed Mrs. Clarke. But she was beginning to see her with new eyes.
Without a shred of evidence you are willing to believe me a murderer. I suppose I have no right to complain. It would be convenient to you to have me out of the way, and the best way of getting rid of me is to get up this cry against me. A nice brotherly act, and worthy of an Ingleton!
"It's singular," said the Mayor. "My clerk posted it. He should have registered it, but omitted." "How was it directed?" asked the captain, turning at last, and pale after his exertions. "Roger Ingleton, senior, Maxfield, England." "Hum! Did your clerk know it contained money?" "Which means, did he purloin it? Well, sir, we shall see. An English bank-note can be traced.
Mrs Ingleton, as the weeks went by, not only grew more pale, but began to be aware of the attentions of her sympathetic kinsman, and to be sorely perplexed and disturbed thereat.
At Ingleton, a small town nestling picturesquely at the foot of the high hill of Ingleborough in western Yorkshire, "within the last thirty years or so it was a common practice to kindle the so-called 'Need-fire' by rubbing two pieces of wood briskly together, and setting ablaze a large heap of sticks and brushwood, which were dispersed, and cattle then driven through the smoking brands.
Ingleton, on the receipt of which he had consulted Miss Clare, had ordered the smaller car, and they had both been driven away by Milner, the chauffeur, and were not expected back until seven or eight o'clock in the evening. This was news indeed. For a whole day the heads of the establishment would be absent, and the younger generation had the place to themselves.
At the sight of the doctor and Mr Armstrong, they sneaked off grudgingly to their own territories, leaving Raffles to escort the gentlemen to the scene of the tragedy. Old Roger Ingleton lay on the sofa, with eyes half-closed, upturned to the ceiling; alive still, but no more.
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