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Updated: June 10, 2025
If you cannot, or do not choose to do that, employ me to pursue her, to chase her, to disgrace and to dishonour her. I will help you well, and with a good will. It is what YOU do. Do I not know that?" "You appear to know a good deal," Mr. Tulkinghorn retorts. "Do I not?
No doubt. Gentlemen, you are discharged. Good afternoon. While the coroner buttons his great-coat, Mr. Tulkinghorn and he give private audience to the rejected witness in a corner.
Tulkinghorn followed up these inquiries to the hour of his death and that he and Lady Dedlock even had bad blood between them upon the matter that very night.
I am afraid a lady of your spirit and activity would find it an inconvenience to have one of those keys turned upon her for any length of time. What do you think?" "I think," mademoiselle replies without any action and in a clear, obliging voice, "that you are a miserable wretch." "Probably," returns Mr. Tulkinghorn, quietly blowing his nose.
The dying ashes have no light to spare, and his endeavours are vain. Muttering, after an ineffectual call to his lodger, that he will go downstairs and bring a lighted candle from the shop, the old man departs. Mr. Tulkinghorn, for some new reason that he has, does not await his return in the room, but on the stairs outside.
Tulkinghorn, "and as they are short, and as I proceed upon the troublesome principle of begging leave to possess my clients with any new proceedings in a cause" cautious man Mr. Tulkinghorn, taking no more responsibility than necessary "and further, as I see you are going to Paris, I have brought them in my pocket." Mr.
Chadband, expressing a considerable amount of oil from the pores of his forehead and the palms of his hands, says aloud, "Yes. You first!" and retires to his former place. "I was the client and friend of Mr. Tulkinghorn," pipes Grandfather Smallweed then; "I did business with him. I was useful to him, and he was useful to me. Krook, dead and gone, was my brother-in-law.
Snagsby takes the opportunity of slightly turning his head to glance over his shoulder at his little woman and to make apologetic motions with his mouth to this effect: "Tul-king-horn rich in-flu-en-tial!" "Have you given this man work before?" asks Mr. Tulkinghorn. "Oh, dear, yes, sir! Work of yours." "Thinking of more important matters, I forget where you said he lived?" "Across the lane, sir.
Tulkinghorn, "I am sorry to be unpolite, but if you ever present yourself uninvited here or there again, I will give you over to the police. Their gallantry is great, but they carry troublesome people through the streets in an ignominious manner, strapped down on a board, my good wench." "I will prove you," whispers mademoiselle, stretching out her hand, "I will try if you dare to do it!"
Tulkinghorn to the painted ceiling again, often in his perplexity changing the leg on which he rests. "I do assure you, sir," says Mr. George, "not to say it offensively, that between you and Mr. Smallweed here, I really am being smothered fifty times over. I really am, sir. I am not a match for you gentlemen.
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