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Updated: June 16, 2025
'I don't remember that, he said. 'What? 'That! And he jerked his elbow towards the photograph. 'Oh! THAT! That's my daughter, said Priscilla. 'Bless us! said Toby in turn. 'I married Job Tansley, Priscilla continued. 'He died four years ago last Knype Wakes Monday. HER'S married' indicating the photograph 'her married young Gibson last September. 'Well, well! murmured Toby. Another pause.
"Got to be done," observed Brent. "Soon over, though. Now let's get in." He piloted Mrs. Saumarez and her companion into the borough Court, handed over to the Coroner for the special purposes of his inquest, found them seats in a reserved part, and leaving them went over to the solicitor's table, where he took a place by the side of Tansley, already settled there with his notes and papers.
Now you are only concerned with the evidence that has been put before you, and I am bound to tell you that there is no evidence that Dr. Wellesley had any caller " A woman's voice suddenly rang out, clear and sharp, from a point of the audience immediately facing the Coroner. "He had! I was the caller!" In the excitement of the moment Tansley sprang to his feet, stared, sank back again.
And in an old town like this, where the folk are very clannish and closely connected one with another by, literally, centuries of intermarriage between families, you're not going to get one man to give another away." "You think that even if the murderer is known, or if some one suspected, he would be shielded?" asked Brent. "In certain eventualities, yes," answered Tansley.
Brent watched them curiously; it seemed to him that Krevin was asking Tansley's advice, and that Tansley was dissuading Krevin from adopting some particular course. They conversed for some minutes, while the magistrates were examining the memorandum book and the papers. Simon Crood joined in, and seemed to agree with Tansley.
However, I guess we shall hear many things before the day's out; of course I haven't the slightest notion what evidence is going to be given. But I've a pretty good idea that Seagrave means to say some pretty straight things to the jury!" Here Tansley proved to be right. The Coroner, in opening the proceedings, made some forcible remarks on their unusual gravity and importance.
"I've enough promises of support now to give me a majority," retorted Brent. "That for promises!" exclaimed Tansley, snapping his fingers. "You don't know Hathelsborough people! They'll promise you their support to your face just to get rid of your presence on their door-steps and vote against you when they reach the ballot-box.
Tansley thrust his letters and papers aside, pushed an open box of cigars in his visitor's direction, and lighting one himself became inquisitively attentive. "What's the game?" he asked. Brent lighted a cigar and took two or three meditative puffs at it before answering this direct question.
Come now, are you an extraordinary one?" "I'll make a try at things anyway," replied Brent. "And I don't believe I shall lose that election, either." "You might have scraped in if you hadn't carried Simon Crood's niece away from under his very nose," said Tansley. "But now that you've brought personal matters into the quarrel, the old chap'll move every piece he has on the board to checkmate you.
"If it could have been produced at this inquiry, some good might have come of it. But, as things are, I see little hope of any change. Vested interests and old customs aren't upset in a day, Mr. Brent." And Brent was soon to discover that both Tansley and Epplewhite were correct in their prophecies about the investigation which he himself had so strenuously advocated in his articles.
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