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Updated: June 16, 2025
Skaggs had no qualms of conscience about the manner in which he had come by the damaging evidence against Maurice Oakley. It was enough for him that he had it. A corporation, he argued, had no soul, and therefore no conscience. How much less, then, should so small a part of a great corporation as himself be expected to have them? He had his story. It was vivid, interesting, dramatic.
Fannie was summoned, and when the matter was explained to her, first gave evidences of giving way to grief, but when the detective began to question her, she calmed herself and answered directly just as her husband had. "Well posted," sneered Oakley. "Arrest that man." Berry had begun to look more hopeful during Fannie's recital, but now the ashen look came back into his face.
Slowly she turned her face toward him, saying, simply: "Yes." They were nearing the entrance, and he half stopped to ask his next question. "Will you tell me what were your thoughts, Madeline?" Slowly she ascended the steps, and at the door turned and faced him: "I will tell you to-night." And with a ripple of laughter on her lips, she entered the hall of Oakley. Evening at Oakley.
Maurice Oakley was perhaps a shade more distrustful of his servants, and consequently more testy with them. Mrs. Oakley was the same acquiescent woman, with unbounded faith in her husband's wisdom and judgment. With complacent minds both went their ways, drank their wine, and said their prayers, and wished that brother Frank's five years were past.
Ferguson, wife of James Ferguson, the well-to-do silversmith and jeweler, of High Street, Avonsbridge, read aloud from the sheet of paper in her hand: "'On the 21st instant, at the University Church, Avonsbridge, by the Reverend John Smith, the Reverend Arnold Grey, D.D., Master of Saint Bede's College, Avonsbridge, to Christian, only child of the late Edward Oakley, Esq., of that place. Will it do?
She looked across the fields in the direction of Oakley, and dropping her knitting and bringing her chair to a tranquil state, soliloquized: "It's always the way with young folks; they don't never remember that old uns have feelings. They run away after a new face, and if it's a young one and a handsome one, they turn everybody out of their thoughts; everybody else.
The Colonel dropped his voice lower. "We can only speculate," he said; "but, as I have said, I have my theory. Oakley was a just man, and in punishing his old servant for the supposed robbery it is plain that he acted from principle. But he is also a proud man and would hate to confess that he had been in the wrong.
When her husband and Neil went out, as they did soon after the latter had expressed himself with regard to Blanche and been sharply reproved, they left the door ajar, and she could hear the sound of footsteps in the room opposite, where Lady Oakley was supposed to be making her toilet, just as Lady Jane was making hers.
The thought brought with it a pang of terror, and as if conjured up by it, the scenes of the day previous marshalled themselves again for review. Could it be possible? Was it only yesterday that she listened to his tender love words, beneath the old tree in Oakley woods? Only yesterday that her step-father was revealed in all his vileness, his plots, his hopes, his fears.
Then I saw the necessity for coming back to Oakley, and to pave the way for my new advent, I sent Nurse Hagar with the false account of my death. A girl had died in the hospital a poor, heart-broken, homeless, friendless, wronged, little unfortunate, 'Kitty the Dancer' she was called in the days when she was fair to see, and men, bad men, set snares for her feet." What ails Lucian Davlin?
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