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It had been raining all the afternoon, a gentle persistent rain that gave no sign of clearing, and they decided, after a cozy dinner at home, that their projected trip to Rockham the next day would have to be given up; but when Bruce pulled aside the curtain from the studio window to compare his watch with the illuminated disc of the St. Francis clock tower, he gave an exclamation of satisfaction.,

Some little distance from the major's abode stood a long, low rambling house on a slight rise. Surrounded by deep verandas, it was placed in the middle of emerald green lawns, smoothly clipped; and these, lower down, were girdled by a belt of ash and sycamores and poplars, which shut out the house from the high road.,

Maurice laughed.,

Mr. Henderson has been dead forty-two years. He only lived three months after he married Aunt Adeline, and her crêpe veil is over a yard long yet. Men are the dust under her feet, but she likes Dr. John to come over and sit with us, because she can consult with him about what Mr. Henderson really died of, and talk with him about the sad state of poor Mr. Carter's liver for a year before he died. I just go on rocking Billy and singing hymns to him in such a way that I can't hear the conversation. Mr. Carter's liver got on my nerves alive, and dead it does worse. But it hurts when the doctor has to take the little sleep-boy out of my arms to carry him home; though I like it when he says under his breath, "Thank you, Molly."

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"Can you prove him guilty?",

"My poor uncle," he said in a low voice. "I cannot tell you what I feel. Etwald telegraphed to me the first thing in the morning, and I came down by the earliest train there was. Poor Maurice!--and we parted in anger.",

David raised his head and looked at the major, at the doctor, at the inspector.,

"Inside; jus' among the grass. I was comin' up to get some food from missy, and I sowr that 'andle shinin' in the sun. I goes an' I looks, an' I fin's it. I knowed as the perlice wanted it, 'cause I 'eard talk of it doin' murder; but as perlice wouldn't give me tin, I wouldn't guv it to they," added Battersea, cunningly, "so I keeps it for 'er, but she ain't paid me yit," he concluded, with the whine of a mendicant.