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Updated: May 23, 2025
"Not a stiletto?" demanded Diana, putting the ribbon in her pocket. "I don't know what's a stiletter, miss; but I didn't find nothing; and I ain't a thief, though some people as sets themselves above others by taking ribbons as doesn't belong to 'em mayn't be much good." "The ribbon is not yours," said Diana haughtily. "Yes it are! Findings is keepings with me!" answered Mrs. Kebby.
She dropped the ribbon off it near the cellar door as she was running away, and there Mrs. Kebby found it." "What did she do with the stiletto?" "She had it in her room, and when she left Mrs. Bensusan she carried it with her down the country. In proof of the truth, she gave it to the vicar who wrote down her confession, and he sent it up with the papers to Scotland Yard. Queer case, isn't it?"
"Begging your pardon, I'm sure," cried the pertinacious woman, "but he does. Mrs. Kebby has been all over the house, and there isn't another soul in it. No, Mr. Denzil, take it what way you will, there's something that ain't right about Mr. Berwin if that's his real name, which I don't believe it is." "Why, Miss Greeb?" "Just because I don't," replied the landlady, with feminine logic.
Deeming her a weak, quiet old creature, Berwin, in spite of his suspicious nature, entrusted Mrs. Kebby with the key of the front door, so that she could enter for her morning's work without disturbing him. The sitting-room door itself was not always locked, but Berwin usually bolted the portal of his bedroom, and had invariably to rise and admit Mrs. Kebby with his breakfast.
Kebby was a dangerous old witch, who, a century back, would have been burnt at the stake; and the worst possible person for Berwin to have in his house. Had he known of her lying and prating she would not have remained an hour under his roof; but Mrs. Kebby was cunning enough to steer clear of such a danger in the most dexterous manner.
Kebby swore that she had left the deceased sitting over the fire at eight o'clock on Christmas Eve, and that he had then been fairly well, though far from enjoying the best of health. When she returned, shortly after nine, on Christmas morning, the man was dead and cold.
But to see his three great daughters, strong and handsome wenches, making upon either side, as if somebody would run off with them this was the very thing that taught me how to value Lorna, and her pure simplicity. After the Snowes came Jasper Kebby, with his wife, new-married; and a very honest pair they were, upon only a hundred acres, and a right of common.
"What is't ye want?" she demanded, with a raven-like croak. "Mr. Peacock has given this lady and myself permission to go over the house," responded Lucian, trying to pass. "And how do I know if he did?" grumbled Mrs. Kebby, blocking the way. "Because I tell you so." "And because I am the daughter of Mr. Vrain," said Diana, stepping forward. "Lord love ye, miss! are ye?" croaked Mrs.
Let every one enj'y hisself as he likes," muttered Mrs. Kebby, and shuffled off to the nearest public house. Here she began to celebrate the season, and afterwards went shopping; then she celebrated the season again, and later carried home her purchases to the miserable garret she occupied. In this den Mrs.
You take Ruth; Uncle Ben take Sally; Master Debby pair off with Polly; and neighbour Nicholas will be good enough, if I can awake him, to stand up with fair Mistress Kebby. Lizzie will play us the virginal. Won't you, Lizzie dear?" "But who is to dance with you, madam?" Uncle Ben asked, very politely. "I think you must rearrange your figure.
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