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Updated: June 22, 2025
He was passing Clarence Lodge, the residence of Mrs. Crosland, when the front door opened suddenly and a girl came running down the drive, calling to him. "The burglars," she said, "and I am afraid my brother hay shot one of them." He certainly had. Poulton found the man lying crumpled up at the bottom of the stairs.
I do not think I have ever seen the professor so excited. Mrs. Crosland had a son and daughter and a nephew living with her. It was the daughter who had run down the drive and called Poulton. There were four servants, a butler and two women in the house and a chauffeur who lived over the garage. There was besides a nurse, for Mrs.
He had invited us to dine; but I misunderstood him, and thought he only intended to give us a drive. Poulton Hall is about three miles from Rock Ferry, the road passing through some pleasant rural scenery, and one or two villages, with houses standing close together, and old stone or brick cottages, with thatched roofs, and now and then a better mansion, apart among trees.
He estimated that by means of a solid embankment across the bay, not less than 40,000 acres of rich alluvial land would be gained. He proposed to carry the road across the ten miles of sands which lie between Poulton, near Lancaster, and Humphrey Head on the opposite coast, forming the line in a segment of a circle of five miles’ radius.
Poulton was a principal in one of the railway companies that were competing to open up the country south of Hudson's Bay to the Pacific, but having dealt with that circumstance in the course of the day he desired only to be allowed to go to bed on bread and butter and a little stewed fruit.
And there was a club of respectable persons, playing at bowls on the bowling-green of the hotel, and there were children, infants, riding on donkeys at a penny a ride, while their mothers walked alongside to prevent a fall. Yesterday, while we were at dinner, Mr. B. came in his carriage to take us to his residence, Poulton Hall.
We were to be married in two months' time and had taken a house near Grange Park, and I have always thought it curious that my first introduction to the neighborhood, so to speak, should be as a detective, and not in the role of a newly married man. It happened in this way. Just before two o'clock one morning Constable Poulton turned into Rose Avenue, Grange Park.
Mr Bates never saw his niece in the post-office, and regrets it to this day. The engagements arose partly out of business relations. Poulton who was a dyspeptic, complained that nothing could be got through in London without eating and drinking; for his part he would concede a point any time not to eat and drink, but you could not do it; you just had to suffer.
"I searched the house with Griffiths, the officer who came when I blew my whistle; we saw no sign of the others." "How did they get in?" I asked. "A window in the passage there was open," said Poulton. "That's the only way they could have come unless they fastened some window or door again when they had entered." I examined this window carefully.
We visited a little newly-settled meeting at Thornton Marsh, near Poulton in the Fylde. Our worthy friend Joseph Wood had the first meeting of our Society that was ever held in this part.
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