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Updated: June 21, 2025
In "Student and Singer" Charles Santley writes of the occasion: "I had been singing at the Crystal Palace concert in the afternoon, and after dining there I went up to the theatre to see a little of the performance. I felt very sorry for Grisi that she had been induced to appear again; it was a sad sight for any one who had known her in her prime, and even long past it."
Santley, was waiting for him; nor had he been observed at all after leaving the railroad station. Later it was proved that he had obtained his position at the factory by the aid of forged credentials. It was believed that he was rather a famous German inventor who had been living in the United States for some years. He had an almost uncanny knowledge of mechanics, as well as of chemistry.
"But he hasn't come here!" exclaimed Mr. Santley. "And he has some private property in the office." "Maybe he isn't coming here," breathed the boy. "Maybe he is only going up to the dam!" "To the dam?" "That water-wheel business! It perplexes me," explained Whistler Morgan. "We'll go up there and take a look!" exclaimed Mr.
"I've been worried about him ever since the other day when we fellows were over here trying to get some of the boys to enlist in the Navy." "Ah, were you one of that crowd?" asked Mr. Santley. "Yes, sir; and coming over here we saw that man Blake "
Santley, the famous English baritone, when I made an examination, and he declared that he was not aware of its producing even discomfort such a capital illustration of the necessity for non-interference until the laws of reflexes are disturbed, that I cannot refrain from alluding to it.
Santley at the munition factory over the telephone. In fact, they had no idea what they would do, or what they would say to Mr. Santley. The car roared on, the dogs barked behind them, and finally they came to the slope leading down into Elmvale. Lights were already twinkling in the valley. But the mills were closed, and even the munition factory seemed deserted.
The Dalston Weekly has taken my short story, and given me ten pounds for it. However, you must take the bad with the good; my poor three-decker has come back on my hands." Katherine uttered a low exclamation. "I did hope they would have taken it! and what miserable pay for that bright, pretty story! Mother, I cannot believe that the novel will fail. Do, do try Santley & Son!
In America a newspaper gravely informed its readers that "Santley says squash pie is the best thing to sing on he knows!"
He knew where the telephone was, the girl at central quickly gave him the connection. A man answered the call. "Is this Mr. Santley?" Whistler asked. "It is. Who are you?" Morgan told him who he was and asked if he could see the manager if he drove right over to Elmvale in his friend's car. "What for?"
"What is your name, young man?" asked the manager, eying the boy with interest. Whistler told him. "Dr. Morgan's son, from Seacove? Come in," and Whistler was ushered inside and the heavy door was again barricaded. "We have to keep locked up here like a fortress at night," said Mr. Santley. "Come in and let me hear what you have to say, young man. What do you know about Mr. Blake?"
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