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Updated: June 16, 2025
As I was saying, I tell ye frankly it is not the sort of business I would have undertaken myself. But my father had his crotchets which is odd, as I'm supposed to resemble him he had his crotchets, and among them was an affection for your father. It may have been based on profit, for your father, Mr. Trenoweth, as far as I have heard, was not exactly a lovable man, if ye'll excuse me.
I am the more concerned with advertising the reader of this, as on looking back upon what I have written with an eye as far as may be impartial, I have not failed to note one obvious criticism that will be passed upon me. "How," it will be asked, "could any boy barely eight years of age conceive the thoughts and entertain the emotions there attributed to Jasper Trenoweth?"
Uncle, I am the only Trenoweth left to Lantrig; think of it, the only one left " "Poor Ezekiel! Poor Margery!" "Yes, uncle, and all I inherit is the knife that murdered my father, and this key. I have the knife, and I will take down the key. We are not beaten yet." I drew a chair under the great beam, and mounted it.
Trenoweth, and yet I have been looking for you for a long time." I bowed. "I have been expecting you to give me a chance of redeeming my defeat." "I am sorry," stammered I, not fully recovered from my surprise, "but that is not likely." "No? From my point of view it was extremely likely. But somehow I had a suspicion that you would be different from the rest.
"Both waiting for you, Mr. Trenoweth, your sweetheart and the devil which shall have you? 'Ladies first, you would say. Aha! I am not so sure. By the way, might I give a guess at your sweetheart's name? Might it begin with a C? Might she be a famous actress? Claire perhaps she calls herself? Aha! Claire's pretty eyes will go red with watching before she sets them on you again.
And again he ran the priceless shower through his fingers. "Oh, yes," he continued after a moment, looking up, "oh, yes, I know you Ezekiel Trenoweth, of course; or is it Amos, or Jasper? No matter, you are all dead. I killed the last of you last year no, last night; all dead. "And the devil has got his due, my lads! "His due, his due! Look at it! look again! I had a skull just now.
It was scribbled hastily with pencil in a bold hand, and ran thus: "An old friend wishes to see you. Come, if you have time. Box No. 7." At first I thought the message must have reached me by mistake, but it was very plainly directed to "J. Trenoweth, Esq." I looked around for the messenger but found him gone, and fell to scanning the boxes once more.
Trenoweth, and' once more his eyes twinkled as I thanked him and made for the door 'I would to Heaven ye were a Scotchman! "Although verily broiled with the heat, I spent the rest of the day in sauntering about the city and drinking in its marvels until the time when I was due to present myself at Craigie Cottage.
Men guessed that those dark years of seclusion and self-repression had been spent in wrestling with memories of a sinful and perhaps a criminal past, and predicted that Amos Trenoweth could not die without confession. They were partly right, from knowledge of human nature; and partly wrong, from ignorance of my grandfather's character. The Will was dated "June 15th, 1837," and ran as follows:
The search-party were returning, when they found a shipwrecked sailor in company with a small boy, one Jasper Trenoweth, in Ready-Money Cove. At the sound of my own name I started, and for the second time since our entry felt the eyes of the stranger question me. At the same time I felt my mother's clasp of my hand tighten, and knew that she saw that look.
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