Books > Old Books > Midnight Tales (1946)


Page 52

THE TOOL

impossible to control my thoughts. Again and again I found myself returning to the subject, fascinated by this sudden break in the past and the possibilities that sprang from it. Where had I been? What had I done?
I believe that it was the sight of an ordinary cottage hospital collecting-box on the mantelpiece that suggested to me a new way of approaching the problem. I have always kept accurate accounts, jotting down the expenses of each day, not in my diary, but in a separate pocket cash-book. This, I thought, might throw new light on the matter. I took it out and hastily turned over the pages. At first sight it told me nothing. There was the same list of villages and their inns; no new names appeared. Then I read it through again. This time I made a discovery. The amounts I had paid in bills for a night's lodging, for supper, bed and breakfast, were much the same at all the inns, with the exception of the `Ship' at Chedsholme. The bill there seemed to be just twice as much as what it should have been. I only remembered to have spent one night there, Tuesday. It might be that I had spent Wednesday night as well.
I rang the bell and ordered what I wanted for breakfast; then, as Mrs. Shaftoe was leaving the room, I asked when it was that I had slept at the inn.
`Tuesday and Wednesday,' she said. `You left us on Thursday morning for Rapmoor. Good night, sir! I'll see that you are called at half-past seven.'
So my supposition was right. The day had been lost at Chedsholme. I wished, as soon as she had gone, that I had asked the woman more. She might have told me something of what I had done. And yet how could I have asked such questions except in the most general terms, without arousing the suspicion that I was mad? From her behaviour it was evident that I had conducted myself in a normal fashion. Very likely I had been out all day walking, only to return to the inn at night dead tired. Why should I worry about this thing, so small compared to the tragedy that centred in my discovery of the afternoon?

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE impossible to control my thoughts. Again and again I found myself returning to what is subject, fascinated by this sudden break in what is past and what is possibilities that sprang from it. Where had I been? What had I done? I believe that it was what is sight of an ordinary cottage hospital collecting-box on what is mantelpiece that suggested to me a new way of approaching what is problem. I have always kept accurate accounts, jotting down what is expenses of each day, not in my diary, but in a separate pocket cash-book. This, I thought, might throw new light on what is matter. I took it out and hastily turned over what is pages. At first sight it told me nothing. There was what is same list of villages and their inns; no new names appeared. Then I read it through again. This time I made a discovery. what is amounts I had paid in bills for a night's lodging, for supper, bed and breakfast, were much what is same at all what is inns, with what is exception of what is `Ship' at Chedsholme. what is bill there seemed to be just twice as much as what it should have been. I only remembered to have spent one night there, Tuesday. It might be that I had spent Wednesday night as well. I rang what is bell and ordered what I wanted for breakfast; then, as Mrs. Shaftoe was leaving what is room, I asked when it was that I had slept at what is inn. `Tuesday and Wednesday,' she said. `You left us on Thursday morning for Rapmoor. Good night, sir! I'll see that you are called at half-past seven.' So my supposition was right. what is day had been lost at Chedsholme. I wished, as soon as she had gone, that I had asked what is woman more. She might have told me something of what I had done. And yet how could I have asked such questions except in what is most general terms, without arousing what is suspicion that I was mad? From her behaviour it was evident that I had conducted myself in a normal fashion. Very likely I had been out all day walking, only to return to what is inn at night dead tired. Why should I worry about this thing, so small compared to what is tragedy that centred in my discovery of what is afternoon? where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Midnight Tales (1946) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 52 where is p align="center" where is strong THE TOOL where is p align="justify" impossible to control my thoughts. Again and again I found myself returning to what is subject, fascinated by this sudden break in what is past and what is possibilities that sprang from it. Where had I been? What had I done? I believe that it was what is sight of an ordinary cottage hospital collecting-box on what is mantelpiece that suggested to me a new way of approaching what is problem. I have always kept accurate accounts, jotting down what is expenses of each day, not in my diary, but in a separate pocket cash-book. This, I thought, might throw new light on what is matter. I took it out and hastily turned over what is pages. At first sight it told me nothing. There was what is same list of villages and their inns; no new names appeared. Then I read it through again. This time I made a discovery. what is amounts I had paid in bills for a night's lodging, for supper, bed and breakfast, were much the same at all what is inns, with what is exception of what is `Ship' at Chedsholme. what is bill there seemed to be just twice as much as what it should have been. I only remembered to have spent one night there, Tuesday. It might be that I had spent Wednesday night as well. I rang what is bell and ordered what I wanted for breakfast; then, as Mrs. Shaftoe was leaving what is room, I asked when it was that I had slept at what is inn. `Tuesday and Wednesday,' she said. `You left us on Thursday morning for Rapmoor. Good night, sir! I'll see that you are called at half-past seven.' So my supposition was right. what is day had been lost at Chedsholme. I wished, as soon as she had gone, that I had asked what is woman more. She might have told me something of what I had done. And yet how could I have asked such questions except in what is most general terms, without arousing what is suspicion that I was mad? From her behaviour it was evident that I had conducted myself in a normal fashion. Very likely I had been out all day walking, only to return to the inn at night dead tired. Why should I worry about this thing, so small compared to what is tragedy that centred in my discovery of the afternoon? where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Midnight Tales (1946) books

Book Pages: default , v , vi , vii , viii , ix , x , xi , xii , xiii , 001 , 002 , 003 , 004 , 005 , 006 , 007 , 009 , 010 , 011 , 012 , 013 , 014 , 015 , 016 , 017 , 018 , 019 , 020 , 021 , 022 , 023 , 024 , 025 , 026 , 027 , 028 , 029 , 030 , 031 , 032 , 033 , 034 , 035 , 036 , 037 , 038 , 039 , 040 , 041 , 042 , 043 , 044 , 045 , 046 , 047 , 048 , 049 , 050 , 051 , 052 , 053 , 054 , 055 , 056 , 057 , 058 , 059 , 060 , 061 , 062 , 063 , 064 , 065 , 066 , 067 , 068 , 069 , 070 , 071 , 072 , 073 , 074 , 075 , 076 , 077 , 078 , 079 , 080 , 081 , 082 , 083 , 084 , 085 , 086 , 087 , 088 , 089 , 090 , 091 , 092 , 093 , 094 , 095 , 096 , 097 , 098 , 099 , 100 , 101 , 102 , 104 , 105 , 106 , 107 , 108 , 109 , 110 , 111 , 112 , 113 , 114 , 116 , 117 , 118 , 119 , 120 , 121 , 122 , 123 , 124 , 125 , 126 , 127 , 128 , 129 , 130 , 131 , 133 , 134 , 135 , 136 , 137 , 139 , 140 , 141 , 142 , 143 , 144 , 145 , 146 , 147 , 148 , 150 , 151 , 152 , 153 , 154 , 155 , 156 , 157 , 158 , 159 , 160 , 161 , 162 , 163 , 164 , 165 , 166 , 167 , 168 , 169 , 170 , 172 , 173 , 174 , 175 , 176 , 177 , 178 , 179 , 180 , 181 , 182 , 183 , 184 , 185 , 186 , 187 , 188 , 189 , 190 , 191 , 192 , 193 , 194 , 195 , 196 , 197 , 198 , 199