Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 8, 2025
I'm sure you've heard all about what's known as the Middle Temple Murder the Marbury case?" "Yes, I've read of it," replied Mr. Quarterpage. "Have you read the accounts of it in my paper, the Watchman?" asked Spargo. Mr. Quarterpage shook his head. "I've only read one newspaper, sir, since I was a young man," he replied.
Spargo, that it was no pleasant thing to have to sit on that grand jury as I did I was its foreman, sir, and hear a man sentenced that you'd regarded as a bosom friend. But there it was!" "How was the thing discovered?" asked Spargo, anxious to get at facts. "In this way," replied Mr. Quarterpage.
His clothes of buff-coloured whipcord were smart and jaunty, his neckerchief as gay as if he had been going to a fair. It seemed to Spargo that Mr. Quarterpage had a pretty long lease of life before him even at his age. Spargo, in his corner, sat fascinated while the old gentlemen began their symposium.
"Do you remember taking a photograph of the child of John Maitland, the bank manager, some twenty or twenty-one years ago?" he asked, after Mr. Quarterpage had introduced him as a gentleman from London who wanted to ask a few questions. "Quite well, sir," replied Mr. Cooper. "As well as if it had been yesterday." "Do you still happen to have a copy of it?" asked Spargo. But Mr.
"I found this ticket under mysterious circumstances in London," he answered. "I want to trace it. I want to know who its original owner was. That is why I have come to Market Milcaster." Mr. Quarterpage slowly looked round the circle of faces. "Wonderful!" he said. "Wonderful! He found this ticket one of our famous fifty in London, and under mysterious circumstances.
"Well?" he said, "Here's three of us. And there's a symposium." "Wait a bit, wait a bit," said the dapper little man. "Grandpa'll be here in a minute. We'll start fair." The barmaid glanced out of the window. "There's Mr. Quarterpage coming across the street now," she announced. "Shall I put the things on the table?" "Aye, put them on, my dear, put them on!" commanded the fat man.
Quarterpage, Junior a pleasant gentleman of sixty, always referred to by his father as something quite juvenile and to Miss Quarterpage, a young-old lady of something a little less elderly than her brother, and to a breakfast table bounteously spread with all the choice fare of the season. Mr.
Quarterpage, to whom Spargo had more particularly addressed himself, spoke, pointing with great empressement to the ticket. "Young gentleman!" he said, in accents that seemed to Spargo to tremble a little, "young gentleman, where did you get that?" "You know what it is, then?" asked Spargo, willing to dally a little with the matter. "You recognize it?" "Know it! Recognize it!" exclaimed Mr.
It was late in the evening when they reached the little town, but Spargo, having looked in at the parlour of the "Yellow Dragon" and ascertained that Mr. Quarterpage had only just gone home, took Breton across the street to the old gentleman's house. Mr. Quarterpage himself came to the door, and recognized Spargo immediately.
Quarterpage. "Yes, and so does every gentleman present. And it is just because I see you are a stranger to this town that I ask you where you got it. Not, I think, young gentleman, in this town." "No," replied Spargo. "Certainly not in this town. How should I get it in this town if I'm a stranger?" "Quite true, quite true!" murmured Mr. Quarterpage.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking