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Updated: June 6, 2025
And I don't see what you're nervous about; there's nothing that can go wrong very well your plans are perfect, I think." "It's easy enough to make plans when you know just what the other side are going to do," observed Dunn. "There's one point more. Miss Cayley I mentioned her in one of the notes I sent you through Burns." "Yes, I remember Deede Dawson's step-daughter," said Walter.
"Do I see cucumber sandwiches?" said Lady Cayley. "Dick, go and tell Mr. Majendie that if he doesn't want all those sandwiches himself, I'll have one." Ransome gave the message, and Majendie turned to the lady of the settee, presenting the plate with the finest air of abstraction. Her large arm hovered in selection long enough for her to shoot out one low quick speech.
"To Cayley the clothes seemed an enormously important clue. I didn't quite see why, but I did realize that to a man in Cayley's position the smallest clue would have an entirely disproportionate value. For some reason, then, Cayley attached this exaggerated importance to the clothes which Mark was wearing on that Tuesday morning; all the clothes, the inside ones as well as the outside ones.
Of course, you will ask them directly, no doubt." "With your permission. No guests?" "They were out all day playing golf," explained Cayley. "Oh, by the way," he put in, "if I may interrupt a moment, will you want to see them at all? It isn't very pleasant for them now, naturally, and I suggested " he turned to Antony, who nodded back to him.
"Have you ever locked your door?" "Never." "No. And you can bet that Cayley knows that. Anyway, he'd bang on it, and you wouldn't answer, and then what would he think?" Bill was silent; crushed. "Then I don't see how we're going to do it," he said, after deep thought. "He'll obviously come to us just before he starts out, and that doesn't give us time to get to the pond in front of him."
Being a man of iron constitution, he made a rapid and complete recovery, but his wrist, ankle, arms, and thigh still bear the marks of the hideous teeth which, but for his marvellous strength of will, would have torn him, living, to shreds. Jim Cayley clambered over the refuse-heaps of the mine, rejoicing in a tremendous appetite which he was soon to have the pleasure of satisfying.
"How do you mean, what about him?" "I want to see him. I can see Mark perfectly, thanks to you, Bill. You were wonderful. Now let's have Cayley's character. Cayley from within." Bill laughed in pleased embarrassment, and protested that he was not a blooming novelist. "Besides," he added, "Mark's easy. Cayley's one of these heavy, quiet people, who might be thinking about anything.
Afraid that Antony would examine the shrubbery. Why? Obviously because there was no trace of anyone having broken through the shrubbery. No doubt Cayley had provided the necessary traces since, and had helped the Inspector to find them. Had he even gone as far as footmarks in Mark's shoes? But the ground was very hard. Perhaps footmarks were not necessary.
Open the door!" "But he must have locked the door on purpose," said Antony. "So why should he open it just because you ask him to?" Cayley looked at him in a bewildered way. Then he turned to the door again. "We must break it in," he said, putting his shoulder to it. "Help me." "Isn't there a window?" Cayley turned to him stupidly. "Window? Window?"
Round the border of the tray were beautifully modelled sea-shells, cray-fish, crabs, and fish of quaint forms, in high relief. Millais was so pleased with the work that he afterwards painted, and presented to Cayley, a fine portrait in his best style of Cayley's son, a boy of six or seven years old. Laurence Oliphant was one of George Cayley's friends.
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