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Updated: June 18, 2025
After a while, another crime attracted general attention; and the murder of Jervy disappeared from the public memory, among other forgotten murders of modern times. The last dreary days of November came to their end.
Farnaby's instructions, and had seen the lawyer privately, during the period that had elapsed between the death and the inquest. Hearing that there were formalities to be complied with, which would probably cause some delay, he had at once announced his determination to employ the interval in attempting the pursuit of Jervy.
Second part: a villainous lawyer; misplaced confidence; reckless investments; death of the villain; ruin of Mrs. Sowler. "Don't talk about her misfortunes when she wakes," Jervy concluded, "or she'll burst out crying, to a dead certainty.
How do we know what he might have done in his young days, or how he might have humbugged a feeble woman. Wait till our friend there at the fire has warmed her old bones with some hot grog and I'll find out something more about Farnaby's debt." "Why, dear? What is it to you?" Jervy reflected for a moment, and decided that the time had come to speak more plainly.
Sowler had tried bribery next; had promised Phoebe a large sum of money, to be equally divided between them, if she would only speak; had declared that Jervy was perfectly capable of breaking his promise of marriage, and "leaving them both in the lurch, if he once got the money into his own pocket" and had thus informed Phoebe, that the conspiracy, which she supposed to have been abandoned, was really in full progress, without her knowledge.
"It's too bad to speak to me in that way!" Phoebe rejoined, with the frank impetuosity of an offended woman. "You know I would die, rather than get you into trouble. Beg my pardon directly or I won't walk another step with you!" Jervy made the necessary apologies, with all possible humility.
Sowler known to the police as an inveterate drunkard, and worse. I don't think there will be much difficulty in tracing Mrs. Sowler. As to Jervy, if the young woman is to be believed, and I think she is, there's little doubt that he has got the money from the lady mentioned in my instructions here, and that he has bolted with the sum about him.
How much do you think Mrs. Farnaby would give me, if I found that lost daughter of hers?" Phoebe suddenly stood still, and looked at the sordid scoundrel who was tempting her in blank amazement. "But nobody knows where the daughter is," she objected. "You and I know that the daughter has a deformity in her left foot," Jervy replied; "and you and I know exactly in what part of the foot it is.
Farnaby had confessed, in writing to Amelius. Her position, at that moment, was essentially a position of command. Mrs. Farnaby felt it in spite of herself. She acknowledged that Jervy had got the money. "Did you sent it to him, or give it to him?" Mrs. Sowler asked. "I gave it to him." "When?" "Yesterday evening." Mrs. Sowler clenched her fists, and shook them in impotent rage.
Reserving in this dexterous manner the freedom of lying, whenever he found it necessary to depart from the truth, he smiled encouragingly, and waited to be questioned. Phoebe repeated the inquiry she had made at the tavern. "Why do you want to know where Mr. Ronald is buried?" she asked bluntly. "Mr. Ronald's tombstone, my dear, will tell me the date of Mr. Ronald's death," Jervy rejoined.
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