Buried Alive: a Tale of These Days by Arnold Bennett
page 123 of 233 (52%)
page 123 of 233 (52%)
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"Yes," she said. "I know it was. And what of it?"
"I mean," he blundered on, "it was my valet that died--not me. You see, the doctor, when he came, thought that Leek was me, and I didn't tell him differently, because I was afraid of all the bother. I just let it slide--and there were other reasons. You know how I am...." "I don't know what you're talking about," she said. "Can't you understand? It's simple enough. I'm Priam Farll, and I had a valet named Henry Leek, and he died, and they thought it was me. Only it wasn't." He saw her face change and then compose itself. "Then it's this Henry Leek that is buried in Westminster Abbey, instead of you?" Her voice was very soft and soothing. And the astonishing woman resumed her spectacles and her long needle. "Yes, of course." Here he burst into the whole story, into the middle of it, continuing to the end, and then going back to the commencement. He left out nothing, and nobody, except Lady Sophia Entwistle. "I see," she observed. "And you've never said a word?" "Not a word." "If I were you I should still keep perfectly silent about it," she |
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