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Updated: July 2, 2025
It was, indeed, only two days after Plummer's visit that Kerrett brought into Hewitt's private room the card of the Rev. James Potswood, with a request for a consultation. Mr.
So they went through the quiet streets for the two or three furlongs that seemed so many miles to the good parson. Arrived at the rectory, Mr. Potswood pushed impatiently through the gate, and was hurrying toward the house, when he perceived a bent little old man standing among some shrubs with his own gardener, who was digging.
She mustn't be seen to-night, of course, but, perhaps, if you could call round in the morning with the rector " "Of course of course! Poor girl and Dr. Lawson suspected, too what a terrible blow for her! Anything I can do, doctor, of course, as I said to Mr. Potswood anything I can do I will do as gladly as such sad circumstances permit." The rector had been coming to the door with Mr.
Don't you remember telling me how he called on you yesterday, though you hardly knew him by sight, merely to ask you to persuade Mason to take a holiday? It struck me as a little odd at the time. He was pumping you, Mr. Potswood he wanted to find what Mason had been saying! And he is not alone plainly he is not alone, for poor Mason knew they were watching everywhere.
Potswood spent in this unselfish way, for he came of a wealthy family, and though a good part of his parish was inhabited by well-to-do people, there was quite enough poverty and distress in the poorer quarters to cause this excellent man often to regret that his resources were not even larger.
"I heard people talking in the next street on my way home. Is it true? But the servants have told me so. They say our poor friend but there has been an arrest, hasn't there?" The rector nodded gravely. "And who? Tell me about it, Mr. Potswood tell me!" "I think I must see how Miss Creswick is doing," said Hewitt, speaking across to Plummer and making for the door.
Mason's closest scientific friend was a palish, black-bearded man, of above middle height, with stooping shoulders and a very quick pair of eyes. There was something about his face that somehow reminded Hewitt of portraits he had seen of John Knox, and yet it was not such a face as his; it seemed oddly unlike in its very likeness. "What is this dreadful news, Mr. Potswood?" he cried.
He remained quiet for a minute or two more, and then sat up with an appearance of much greater composure. 'You mustn't mind me, Potswood, he said. 'As I've told you, I'm in a bad state of nerves, and at best I'm an impulsive sort of person, as you know.
"Let us see if he has sent you a message. It seems likely. If he has it may help us. If not then I think we must do something decisive at once. But don't hurry so! It is hard to restrain one's self, I know, but there may be eyes on us, Mr. Potswood, and we must not seem to be persisting in our errand."
Potswood, that he had never dabbled in the strange devilries of Myatt or Mayes, as we were now learning to call him. "At any rate," Peytral resumed, "you will understand that the conjunction of the tourniquet with the Red Triangle in the two cases you know of caused me some excitement.
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