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Updated: June 25, 2025


"You have stated the law accurately enough," said Robert Turold, "but my daughter does not succeed to the title." "Why not?" Embarrassment, perceptible as a cloud, deepened on Robert Turold's face. He regained his self-control with an effort. "There was an informality in my marriage," said he at last. "My daughter's birth was irregular." "Do you mean that she is illegitimate?" asked Dr. Ravenshaw.

You'd better drop me at the churchtown on your way back to Penzance. There's really nothing to detain you any longer." They returned to the churchtown in the motor-car, and Pengowan from the back seat directed the way to Austin Turold's lodgings.

It did him good. My husband said so himself. He derived inspiration artistic inspiration from Mr. Turold's talk. He conceived a picture 'Land of Hope and Glory' it was to be called of a massive figure of Britannia, standing on Land's End, defying the twin demons of Bolshevism and Labour Unrest with a trident. He was working at it with extraordinary rapidity when this happened.

The body defies us we have no control over it. So she died mercifully unconscious most of the time and died, as I had hoped, without the least suspicion of the truth. "You cannot faintly imagine the shock of Turold's announcement on the day of her burial, to me, who had been so arrogantly certain that the secret was safe.

Pendleton, because that assumption provides strong motive for the murder by giving the key of interpretation to Miss Turold's subsequent actions. We must picture the effect of that overheard conversation on the girl's mind.

What do you think of it?" "It sounds convincing enough." "It would sound more convincing to me if it was entirely consistent with the other facts of the case. Have you those sheets of unfinished writing which were found in Robert Turold's study?" Dawfield produced two sheets of foolscap from his desk. Barrant laid them on the table, and examined them with a magnifying glass.

There was something of an art in Austin Turold's manner of wearing glasses; they tilted, superiorly, at the world in general at an acute angle on the high bridge of a supercilious nose, the eyes glancing through them downwards, as though from a great height, at a remote procession of humanity crawling far beneath. At that moment, however, there was nothing superior in his bearing.

I believe he had them in the house when he made his statement to the family." "Then where are they now?" "They may have been stolen." "For what reason?" "By some one interested." "The person most interested is Robert Turold's daughter," said Barrant thoughtfully. "That supposition fits in with the theory of her guilt.

With an expressionless face he went in and left the last lamp burning dimly on the mantelpiece, like a votary candle on an altar of the dead. Issuing forth again he cast a look around him and walked to Robert Turold's study at the end of the passage. The door was closed, but he opened it and entered. Robert Turold was busily engaged writing at a large table by the light of a swinging lamp.

"Perhaps he imagined you might persuade him against it," sighed Mrs. Pendleton. "It is all very strange. I do not understand it a bit." Mr. Brimsdown thought it strange, then and afterwards. Next day, after going to the police station and handing Robert Turold's letter to Inspector Dawfield, he sought out the Penzance lawyer who had drawn up the will. Mr.

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