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Updated: June 11, 2025
Spurning the mob who had rushed in at him, he strode towards his risen adversary, and aimed at him one final blow that should put an end to his tyranny for ever. A notion that Sarah Purfoy had betrayed him, and that the handsome soldier was the cause of the betrayal, had taken possession of his mind, and his rage had concentrated itself upon Maurice Frere.
I don't think she is a good woman either. It is possible, indeed, that she has known the factory before now. There is a mystery about her, for I was informed that she was a Mrs. Purfoy, the widow of a whaling captain, and had married one of her assigned servants, who had deserted her five years ago, as soon as he obtained his freedom. A word or two at dinner set me thinking.
Sarah Purfoy, however, taking the astonished Sylvia by the hand, glided into her mistress's cabin with a scornful laugh, and shut the door behind her. Convictism having been safely got under hatches, and put to bed in its Government allowance of sixteen inches of space per man, cut a little short by exigencies of shipboard, the cuddy was wont to pass some not unpleasant evenings. Mrs.
He found it a low white building, situated four miles from the city, at the extreme end of a tongue of land which ran into the deep waters of the harbour. A garden carefully cultivated, stood between the roadway and the house, and in this garden he saw a man digging. "Does Mrs. Purfoy live here?" he asked, pushing open one of the iron gates.
But I did not like to leave her behind, and endeavoured to teach her myself." "Hum! There was a-ha-governess, or something, was there not?" said Frere, staring into his tea-cup. "That maid, you know what was her name?" "Miss Purfoy," said Mrs. Vickers, a little gravely. "Yes, poor thing! A sad story, Mr. Frere." Frere's eye twinkled. "Indeed!
Skinner, John Rex and Sarah Purfoy were living in quiet lodgings in the neighbourhood of Bloomsbury. Their landlady was a respectable poor woman, and had a son who was a constable. This son was given to talking, and, coming in to supper one night, he told his mother that on the following evening an attack was to be made on a gang of coiners in the Old Street Road.
Blunt, with a wild hope that this waif and stray might be the lover of Sarah Purfoy, dead, lowered a boat and picked him up. Nearly bisected by the belt, gorged with salt water, frozen with cold, and having two ribs broken, the victim of Vetch's murderous quickness retained sufficient life to survive Blunt's remedies for nearly two hours.
What sort of a job?" "A job of whaling," said Blunt, more uneasy than before. "Oh, that's it, is it? Your old line of business. And who employs you now?" There was no suspicion in the tone, and had Blunt chosen to evade the question, he might have done so without difficulty, but he replied as one who had anticipated such questioning, and had been advised how to answer it. "Mrs. Purfoy."
It was cruel that, having comfortably forgotten the past, he should be thus rudely reminded of it. The reader of the foregoing pages has doubtless asked himself, "what is the link which binds together John Rex and Sarah Purfoy?" In the year 1825 there lived at St. Heliers, Jersey, an old watchmaker, named Urban Purfoy.
With such a powerful ally outside as the mock maid-servant, the chance of success was enormously increased. There were one hundred and eighty convicts and but fifty soldiers. If the first rush proved successful and the precautions taken by Sarah Purfoy rendered success possible the vessel was theirs.
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