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Updated: June 14, 2025
Your brother was telling me what a hard time he had to get you away from your Church work to come to the party. When I heard that I wanted to meet you at once. I am Margaret Westcote, and have been in this country but a short time, and everything is so new and interesting to me." "Ducedly tame, I call it," Bramshaw interposed before Lois had time to say a word.
"About them dago pigs," it said, "what shall I do they are great in family life, no race suicide for them, there are thirty-two now shall I sell them do you take this express office for a menagerie, answer quick." Morgan reached for a telegraph blank and wrote: "Agent, Westcote. Don't sell pigs."
"Have you any idea why the company should do all this for his sake?" Lois enquired. "Who is he, anyway?" "I have not the slightest idea," was the reply. "Everything has been a profound mystery to me from the beginning. There is something most interesting back of it all, mark my word. Mr. Westcote evidently knows, but he has never enlightened me. Perhaps his daughter knows something."
"I'd like to know about that cartridge." On the morrow the suspicious band quietly trotted out after dinner from St. Amory's, dressed ostensibly for a run down Westcote way. Once down the hill they lay well out in the fields, keeping a sharp watch through the hedges for their quarry.
Reaching the store, her attention was diverted for a time by the brief note she received from Mr. Westcote telling of the arrest of Sydney Bramshaw. This was very gratifying news, but she longed to hear some word about Jasper, and whether he would be released. This and what Mrs. Peterson had told her about the will occupied her mind all that afternoon.
Westcote may come at any moment. Good-bye, and may God bless and keep you." That was the hardest parting Jasper had ever known. But as he walked up the road a new spirit possessed his soul. He knew what it was to fight, for he had fought all his life long.
It was after supper, when the old darky had lighted the dips there being no longer any oil or candles to be had that the thrush, who had been going into interminable ecstasies of fluty trills, suddenly became mute. A jingle of metal sounded from the garden, a step on the porch, a voice inquiring for Mr. Westcote; and old Mose replying with reproachful dignity: "Mars Wes'cote, suh?
Behind each is a small chamber, hollowed most scientifically, quite a little temple of acoustics. If Miss Westcote, now, would care to step into one and listen, while I stand below with the Major and converse in ordinary tones " "No, no," Dorothea declined, hurriedly, and with a shiver.
"But I have come to see you, sir, on very important business. It has troubled me so much that I have not been able to sleep ever since Randall was arrested." "Oh, I see, it has to do with that murder case, has it?" Mr. Westcote asked, now greatly interested. "I wouldn't like to say that, sir," and Dobbins twirled his hat in his hands. "But it might throw some light upon the matter.
"I think," answered Endymion, slowly, "my sister would prefer a word or two with him alone." "Certainly. Will you step into the surgery, Miss Westcote?" He indicated the door at which the orderly had appeared. "Smithers will not take two minutes in fetching the prisoner; and perhaps, if you will excuse us, a visit to the hospital itself will repay your brother.
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