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Updated: June 7, 2025
A search was at once arranged; every servant in the house was at once impressed, and in the morning every servant on the estate. Major Lashley had left the stable at a quarter past ten. He has been seen by no one since." Sir Charles reflected upon this story. "There is a pond in front of the house," said he. "It was dragged in the morning," replied Jerkley.
For the young man's lengthy exordium had made him very drowsy. He could very comfortably had fallen asleep at this moment. But Gibson Jerkley began to speak, and in a short space of time Sir Charles was as wide-awake as any house-breaker. "Eight years ago," said he, "I came very often to the Quarry House, but I always rode homewards discontented in the evening.
"Well, I will think the matter over," said Sir Charles, who had not an idea in his head, and he held the door open for Mr. Jerkley. Both men stood upon the threshold, looked down the passage and then looked at one another. "It is strange," said Jerkley. "The light has been a long while burning on the landing," said Sir Charles.
They walked on tiptoe down the passage to the door beneath which one bright bar of light stretched across the floor. Jerkley opened the door and looked through; Sir Charles who was the taller man looked over Jerkley's head and never were two men more surprised. In the embrasure of that door to the left of the staircase, the door behind which Resilda Lashley slept, old Mr.
Let him sit at his work-table in that crowded drawing-room on the first floor, without interruption, and he will be very well content, I can assure you.... Hush!" and he suddenly raised his hand. In the silence which followed, they both distinctly heard the sound of some one stirring in the house. Mr. Jerkley went to the door and opened it.
Perhaps a Moor had travelled over seas for his vengeance and found his way from village to village like that Baracen lady of old times. And when he had come to this point of his reflections, he heard a light rapping upon his door. He got out of bed and opened it. He saw Mr. Gibson Jerkley standing on the threshold with a candle in one hand and a finger of the other at his lip.
The mere question raised a laugh. Resilda? Never. Major Lashley then? If not Major Lashley, who else? It flashed into his mind that here in this book he might hold the history of the Major's long courtship of Resilda. But he dismissed the notion contemptuously. Gibson Jerkley had told him of that courtship, and of the girl's reluctance to respond to it.
Two windows on the first floor were entirely bricked up, and as the house was square with level tiers of windows, they gave to it an unsightly look. Sir Charles inquired of his companion if he could account for them. "To be sure," said Jerkley, with the inattention of a man diverted from serious thought to an unimportant topic. "They are the windows of the room in which Mrs.
Mardale doubtfully, "to be sure! To be sure!" And though he went into the hall to welcome his visitor, it was not altogether without reluctance. Mr. Gibson Jerkley was a man of about thirty years.
But she heard of course after I had gone and I am speaking frankly I believe the news woke the woman in her. At all events there was little talk after of Tangier at the Quarry House." Mr. Jerkley related his subsequent history.
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