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Updated: May 12, 2025
"Here! look here!" interposed Mr. Negget. "I've known Mrs. Driver thirty year a'most." "What time did she come?" repeated the ex-constable, pitilessly. His niece shook her head. "It might have been eleven, and again it might have been earlier," she replied. "I was out when she came." "Out!" almost shouted the other. Mrs. Negget nodded. "She was sitting in here when I came back."
He broke off and eyed with dignified surprise a fine piece of wireless telegraphy between husband and wife. It appeared that Mr. Negget sent off a humorous message with his left eye, the right being for some reason closed, to which Mrs. Negget replied with a series of frowns and staccato shakes of the head, which her husband found easily translatable. Under the austere stare of Mr.
"In the first place, I want you to ask Mrs. Driver here to tea to-morrow oh, I don't mind Negget's ridiculous ideas pity he hasn't got something better to think of; if she's guilty, I'll soon find it out. I'll play with her like a cat with a mouse. I'll make her convict herself." "Look here!" said Mr. Negget, with sudden vigour. "I won't have it.
Bodfish wrung his hands, and his thoughts reverted instinctively to instances in his memory in which charges of murder had been altered by the direction of a sensible judge to manslaughter. He held his breath for the next words. Mr. Negget drank a little more ale and looked at Mrs. Driver. "I wonder whether you've got a morsel of bread and cheese?" he said, slowly. "I've come over that hungry "
"What do you think of that?" he demanded, triumphantly. "Somebody's been up there," said his niece. "It isn't Emma, because she hasn't been outside the house all day; and it can't be George, because he promised me faithful he'd never go up there in his dirty boots." Mr. Negget coughed, and approaching the stairs, gazed with the eye of a stranger at the relics as Mr.
"Eh!" said the startled farmer, putting his finger to his lips. "Never mind," said the other, shaking his head. "It's too late now." "He doesn't care a bit," said Mrs. Negget, somewhat sadly. "He used to keep buttons in that box with the lozenges until one night he gave me one by mistake. Yes, you may laugh I'm glad you can laugh." Mr.
Negget in a low voice to his pipe, "as they should come to a house with a retired policeman living in it. Looks to me like somebody that ain't got much respect for the police." The ex-policeman got up from the table, and taking a seat on the settle opposite the speaker, slowly filled a long clay and took a spill from the fireplace.
"Eh!" said the startled farmer, putting his finger to his lips. "Never mind," said the other, shaking his head. "It's too late now." "He doesn't care a bit," said Mrs. Negget, somewhat sadly. "He used to keep buttons in that box with the lozenges until one night he gave me one by mistake. Yes, you may laugh I'm glad you can laugh." Mr.
I said that I named no names, and didn't wish to think bad of anybody, and that if I found the brooch back in the box when I went up stairs again, I should forgive whoever took it." "And what did Emma say?" inquired Mr. Bodfish. "Emma said a lot o' things," replied Mrs. Negget, angrily. "I'm sure by the lot she had to say you'd ha' thought she was the missis and me the servant.
"If I put my finger on the culprit," he asked at length, turning to his niece, "what do you wish done to her?" Mrs. Negget regarded him with an expression which contained all the Christian virtues rolled into one. "Nothing," she said, softly. "I only want my brooch back." The ex-constable shook his head at this leniency. "Well, do as you please," he said, slowly.
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