Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 6, 2025
Stafford, who came in here with me, you know, offended him," he continued, and gave Mrs. Wooler an account of what had happened. "Is he rather touchy?" he concluded. "I don't know that he is," she said. "No one sees much of him. You see he's a stranger: although he's a Greyle, he's not a Scarhaven man. Of course, I know all his family history I'm Scarhaven born and bred.
Now, if I help in that there work, will Miss Greyle continue me in my post of estate agent at Scarhaven?" "Not for any longer than it will take to turn you out of it, Mr. Chatfield," replied Audrey with an energy and promptitude which surprised her companions. "So we need not discuss that. You will never be my agent!"
So far, this was all known to them but what was coming? "Now, I was alone with Greyle for awhile that evening," continued Addie. "It was while my father was getting some food downstairs. Greyle said to me that he knew he was dying, and he gave me a pocket-book in which he said all his papers were: he said I could give it to my father.
During the few days which had elapsed since his hurried setting-off to meet Bassett Oliver so many things had happened that he felt as if he had lived a week in a totally different world. He had met death, and mystery, and what appeared to be sure evidence of deceit and cunning and perhaps worse fraud and crime blacker than fraud. But he had also met Audrey Greyle.
"Here is remarkable news!" said Mrs. Greyle as she went back to her chair. "Lord Altmore called to tell me of something that he thought I ought to know. It is almost unbelievable, yet it is a fact. Marston Greyle if he is Marston Greyle! has offered to sell Lord Altmore the entire Scarhaven estate, by private treaty. Imagine it! the estate which has belonged to the Greyles for five hundred years!"
Chatfield!" he called out. "Keep all these people away! Close the door and let no one enter on any excuse. Stay there yourself and see that we are not interrupted. Come this way now," he went on, addressing the policemen and the two favoured spectators. "You've found him, then, sir?" asked the police-sergeant in a thick whisper, as Greyle led his party across the grass to the foot of the Keep.
"What are you after, Chatfield?" he asked at length. "Something, of course. You say you want to come to terms with Miss Greyle. That, of course, is because you know very well that Miss Greyle is the legal owner of Scarhaven, and that " Chatfield waved his pipe. "I don't!" he answered, with what seemed genuine eagerness. "I don't know naught of the sort. I tell you, Mr.
"No news at all!" exclaimed Stafford, glancing at Copplestone's companions. "You got any?" "None," replied Copplestone. "Not a word. This is Mr. Greyle, of the Keep he has heard nothing. This lady Miss Greyle? was out a good deal yesterday afternoon; she knows Oliver quite well by sight, but she did not see him. So if you've no news " Marston Greyle interrupted, turning to the policeman.
Greyle will be glad to help in any possible way towards finding out something in this here affair," he answered. "He'll welcome any inquiry that's opened." "Oh!" said Copplestone. "I see! But you're making a mistake, Mr. Chatfield. I don't represent anybody. I'm not even a relation of Mr. Bassett Oliver. In fact, I never met Mr. Oliver in my life: never spoke to him.
She took up the typescript which the old actor had brought in his packet, and held its title-page significantly before him. "That is the first thing that strikes me!" she exclaimed. "The Marston Greyle who sent this to Bassett Oliver said according to your story that he sprang from a very old family in England, and that this is a dramatization of a romantic episode in its annals.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking