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Updated: June 6, 2025
It didn't seem quite fair of Cayley, somehow; he was taking rather a mean advantage of his friends. Lot of funny people there were in the world funny people with secrets. Look at Tony, that first time he had met him in a tobacconist's shop. Anybody would have thought he was a tobacconist's assistant. And Cayley. Anybody would have thought that Cayley was an ordinary decent sort of person.
I can imagine that Mark loved having this little secret all to himself and to Cayley, of course, but Cayley wouldn't count and they must have had great fun fixing it up, and making it more difficult for other people to find out. Well then, when Miss Norris was going to dress-up, Cayley gave it away.
Bill, deep in his book, looked up and said "Yes," and went back to it again. He was just getting to the place. "What's the book?" said Cayley, coming up to him. Out of the corner of his eye he glanced at the shelf of sermons as he came. Bill saw that glance and wondered. Was there anything there to give away the secret? "I was just looking up a quotation," he drawled.
Every one knows that life is full of them. The exposition might, no doubt, have been more economically effected. Cayley Drummle might have figured as sole confidant and chorus; or even he might have been dispensed with, and all that was necessary might have appeared in colloquies between Aubrey and Paula on the one hand, Aubrey and Ellean on the other.
"Mark killed his brother, and Cayley helped him to escape through the passage; either in order to compromise him, or because there was no other way out of it. And he helped him by telling a lie about his brown suit." Antony smiled at him in genuine amusement. "Bad luck, Bill," he said sympathetically. "There's only one murder, after all. I'm awfully sorry about it. It was my fault for "
Miss Cayley, if you and I were to trust each other it's not difficult to see there's something troubling you." "Most people have some trouble or another," she answered evasively. He came a little nearer to her, and instead of the gruff, harsh tones he habitually used, his voice was singularly pleasant and low as he said: "People who are in trouble need help, Miss Cayley. Will you let me help you?"
As I told you before, I am only warning you, for your own sake, and for Anne's. You know, or suspect at least " "I don't!" I broke in hotly. "I neither know nor suspect that that she Jim Cayley, would you believe Mary to be a murderess, even if all the world declared her to be one? Wouldn't you " "Stop!" he said sternly. "You don't know what you're saying, you young fool!
"He was talking to a girl in the street one night, and got into a row with some roughs, and jabbed one in the eye with his umbrella, and the fellow died. The inquiry is now going on, and it's likely the coroner's jury will bring in a verdict of manslaughter against Mr. Cayley Pounce.
Could you be a sleuthhound, Bill one of those that travel on their stomachs very noiselessly? I mean, could you get near enough to the pond to make sure that Cayley is still there, without letting him see you?" "Rather!" He got up eagerly. "You wait." Antony's head shot up suddenly. "Why, that was what Mark said," he cried. "Mark?" "Yes. What Elsie heard him say." "Oh, that."
He had picked up a bit in the Army not enough to send a message, of course. But a message was impossible, anyhow; Cayley would hear him tapping it out. It wouldn't do to send more than a single letter. What letters did he know? And what letter would convey anything to Antony?.... He pulled at his pipe, his eyes wandering from Cayley at his desk to the Reverend Theodore Ussher in his shelf.
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