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Updated: June 4, 2025
Carless held the paper to the light and saw on the top line, ... "sforth," on the middle line, ... "nd Stationer" and, ... "n Hill" on the bottom line. "My nephew there," went on Miss Penkridge, "knows what that would be, in full, if the other half of the sheet were here. It would be precisely what it is under the flap of this envelope there you are!
Robertson he'd have put up his eye-glass," said Henderson, again exactly hitting off the master's attitude, "and he'd have observed, `Ah! Penkridge has fallen through the floor; probably fractured some bones.
And that wasn't in a novel!" concluded Miss Penkridge triumphantly. "Novels Improbability pooh! Judged by what some people can tell of life, the novel that's improbable hasn't yet been written!" "Well!" remarked Viner after a pause, "I dare say you're right, Aunt Bethia. Only, you see, I haven't come across the things in life that you read about in novels." "You may yet," replied Miss Penkridge.
And it all came about quite suddenly, this afternoon. Through your aunt, Mr. Viner Miss Penkridge. Smart lady, sir!" "My aunt!" exclaimed Viner. "Why, how on earth " "Some of your gentlemen had a conference with that fellow Cave at your house, after you left court this morning," said Drillford. "Miss Penkridge was present.
"I live close by you," he said. "If there is anything that I can do, or that my aunt Miss Penkridge, who lives with me, can do? Perhaps you will let me call in the morning." The girl looked at him steadily and frankly. "Thank you, Mr. Viner," she said. "It would be very kind if you would. We've no men folk yes, please do."
"Ring the bell for more cups and saucers!" But Viner, instead of ordering the teacups, whispered a word or two to Miss Penkridge, and then beckoned Lord Ellingham and the two solicitors to follow him out of the room. He silently led them to his study and closed the door.
"There is a clue in these things!" she exclaimed. "A plain clue! One that's plain enough to me, anyway. I could follow it up. I don't know whether you gentlemen can." Mr. Carless, who had, up to that point, treated Miss Penkridge with good-humoured condescension, turned sharply upon her. "What do you mean, ma'am?" he asked. "You really see something in in a typewritten letter?"
And if I were you, I should invite men who knew him to come forward and tell what they know." "It shall be done very good advice, ma'am," said Mr. Pawle. "And there's another thing," said Miss Penkridge. "I should find out what can be told about Mr. Ashton where he came from. I believe you can get telegraphic information from Australia within a few hours.
Her tastes, however, in Viner's opinion were somewhat, if not decidedly, limited. Brought up in her youth on Miss Braddon, Wilkie Collins and Mrs. Henry Wood, Miss Penkridge had become a confirmed slave to the sensational. She had no taste for the psychological, and nothing but scorn for the erotic.
He was a man about whom he had recently felt some curiosity, a man who, a few weeks before, had come to live in a house close to his own, in company with an elderly lady and a pretty girl; Viner and Miss Penkridge had often seen all three in and about Markendale Square, and had wondered who they were.
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