Semanticate

src/epub/text/chapter-10.xhtml

@@ -12,7 +12,7 @@
 				<p epub:type="title">The Invalid Curate</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>Spurge and his visitor sat staring at each other in silence for a few minutes; the silence was eventually broken by Copplestone.</p>
-			<p>“Of course,” he said reflectively, “if <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Oliver was looking round those ruins he could easily spend half an hour there.”</p>
+			<p>“Of course,” he said reflectively, “if <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Oliver was looking round those ruins he could easily spend half an hour there.”</p>
 			<p>“Just so,” agreed Spurge. “He could spend an hour. If so be as he was one of these here antiquarian-minded gents, as loves to potter about old places like that, he could spend two hours, three hours, profitable-like. But he’d have come out in the end, and the evidence is, guv’nor, that he never did come out! Even if I am just now lying up, as it were, I’m fully what they term oh fay with matters, and, by all accounts, after Bassett Oliver went up that there path, subsequent to his bit of talk with Ewbank, he was never seen no more ’cepting by me, and possibly by Squire Greyle. Them as lives a good deal alone, like me guv’nor, develops what you may call logical faculties⁠—they thinks⁠—and thinks deep. I’ve thought. <abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">B. O.</abbr>⁠—that’s Oliver⁠—didn’t go back by the way he’d come, or he’d ha’ been seen. <abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">B. O.</abbr> didn’t go forward or through the woods to the headlands, or he’d ha’ been seen, <abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">B. O.</abbr> didn’t go down to the shore, or he’d ha’ been seen. ’Twixt you and me, guv’nor, <abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">B. O.</abbr>’s dead body is in that there Keep!”</p>
 			<p>“Are you suggesting anything?” asked Copplestone.</p>
 			<p>“Nothing, guv’nor⁠—no more than that,” answered Spurge. “I’m making no suggestion and no accusation against nobody. I’ve seen a bit too much of life to do that. I’ve known more than one innocent man hanged there at Norcaster Gaol in my time all through what they call circumstantial evidence. Appearances is all very well⁠—but appearances may be against a man to the very last degree, and yet him be as innocent as a new born baby! No⁠—I make no suggestions. ’Cepting this here⁠—which has no doubt occurred to you, or to <abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">B. O.</abbr>’s brother. If I were the missing gentleman’s friends I should want to know a lot! I should want to know precisely what he meant when he said to Dan’l Ewbank as how he’d known a man called Marston Greyle in America. ’Taint a common name, that, guv’nor.”</p>
@@ -23,22 +23,22 @@
 			<p>“To tell you the truth, guv’nor, I was waiting there for that cousin o’ mine⁠—him as carried you the letter,” answered Spurge. “It was a fixture between us⁠—he was to meet me there about three o’clock that day. If he wasn’t there, or in sight, by a quarter past three I was to know he wasn’t able to get away. So as he didn’t come, I slipped back into the woods, and made my way back here, round by the moors.”</p>
 			<p>“Are you going to stay in this place?” asked Copplestone.</p>
 			<p>“For a bit, guv’nor⁠—till I see how things are,” replied Spurge. “As I say, I’m wanted for poaching, and Chatfield’s been watching to get his knife into me this long while. All the same, if more serious things drew his attention off, he might let it slide. What do you ask for, guv’nor?”</p>
-			<p>“I wanted to know where you could be found in case you were required to give evidence about seeing <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Oliver,” replied Copplestone. “That evidence may be wanted.”</p>
-			<p>“I’ve thought of that,” observed Spurge. “And you can always find that much out from my cousin at the Admiral. He keeps in touch with me⁠—if it got too hot for me here, I should clear out to Norcaster⁠—there’s a spot there where I’ve laid low many a time. You can trust my cousin⁠—Jim Spurge, that’s his name. One eye, no mistaking of him⁠—he’s always about the yard there at <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Wooler’s.”</p>
+			<p>“I wanted to know where you could be found in case you were required to give evidence about seeing <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Oliver,” replied Copplestone. “That evidence may be wanted.”</p>
+			<p>“I’ve thought of that,” observed Spurge. “And you can always find that much out from my cousin at the Admiral. He keeps in touch with me⁠—if it got too hot for me here, I should clear out to Norcaster⁠—there’s a spot there where I’ve laid low many a time. You can trust my cousin⁠—Jim Spurge, that’s his name. One eye, no mistaking of him⁠—he’s always about the yard there at <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Wooler’s.”</p>
 			<p>“All right,” said Copplestone. “If I want you, I’ll tell him. By the by, have you told this to anybody?”</p>
 			<p>“Not to a soul, guv’nor,” replied Spurge. “Not even to Jim. No⁠—I kept it dark till I could see you. Considering, of course, that you are left in charge of things, like.”</p>
 			<p>Copplestone presently went away and returned slowly to Scarhaven, meditating deeply on what he had heard. He saw no reason to doubt the truth of Zachary Spurge’s tale⁠—it bore the marks of credibility. But what did it amount to? That Spurge saw Bassett Oliver enter the ruins of the Keep, by the one point of ingress; that a few moments later he saw Marston Greyle come away from the same place, evidently considerably upset, and sneak off in a manner which showed that he dreaded observation. That was all very suspicious, to say the least of it, taken in relation to Oliver’s undoubted disappearance⁠—but it was only suspicion; it afforded no direct proof. However, it gave material for a report to Sir Cresswell Oliver, and he determined to write out an account of his dealings with Spurge that afternoon, and to send it off at once by registered letter.</p>
-			<p>He was busily engaged in this task when <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Wooler came into his sitting room to lay the table for his lunch. Copplestone saw at once that she was full of news.</p>
-			<p>“Never rains but it pours!” she said with a smile. “Though, to be sure, it isn’t a very heavy shower. I’ve got another visitor now, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Copplestone.”</p>
+			<p>He was busily engaged in this task when <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Wooler came into his sitting room to lay the table for his lunch. Copplestone saw at once that she was full of news.</p>
+			<p>“Never rains but it pours!” she said with a smile. “Though, to be sure, it isn’t a very heavy shower. I’ve got another visitor now, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Copplestone.”</p>
 			<p>“Oh?” responded Copplestone, not particularly interested. “Indeed!”</p>
 			<p>“A young clergyman from London⁠—the Reverend Gilling,” continued the landlady. “Been ill for some time, and his doctor has recommended him to try the north coast air. So he came down here, and he’s going to stop awhile to see how it suits him.”</p>
 			<p>“I should have thought the air of the north coast was a bit strong for an invalid,” remarked Copplestone. “I’m not delicate, but I find it quite strong enough for me.”</p>
-			<p>“I daresay it’s a case of kill or cure,” replied <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Wooler. “Chest complaint, I should think. Not that the young gentleman looks particularly delicate, either, and he tells me that he’s a very good appetite and that his doctor says he’s to live well and to eat as much as ever he can.”</p>
+			<p>“I daresay it’s a case of kill or cure,” replied <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Wooler. “Chest complaint, I should think. Not that the young gentleman looks particularly delicate, either, and he tells me that he’s a very good appetite and that his doctor says he’s to live well and to eat as much as ever he can.”</p>
 			<p>Copplestone got a view of his fellow-visitor that afternoon in the hall of the inn, and agreed with the landlady that he showed no evident signs of delicacy of health. He was a good type of the conventional curate, with a rather pale, good-humoured face set between his round collar and wide brimmed hat, and he glanced at Copplestone with friendly curiosity and something of a question in his eyes. And Copplestone, out of good neighbourliness, stopped and spoke to him.</p>
-			<p>“<abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Wooler tells me you’re come here to pick up,” he remarked. “Pretty strong air round this quarter of the globe!”</p>
+			<p>“<abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Wooler tells me you’re come here to pick up,” he remarked. “Pretty strong air round this quarter of the globe!”</p>
 			<p>“Oh, that’s all right!” said the new arrival. “The air of Scarhaven will do me good⁠—it’s full of just what I want.” He gave Copplestone another look and then glanced at the letters which he held in his hand. “Are you going to the post office?” he asked. “May I come?⁠—I want to go there, too.”</p>
 			<p>The two young men walked out of the inn, and Copplestone led the way down the road towards the northern quay. And once they were well out of earshot of the Admiral’s Arms, and the two or three men who lounged near the wall in front of it, the curate turned to his companion with a sly look.</p>
-			<p>“Of course you’re <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Copplestone?” he remarked. “You can’t be anybody else⁠—besides, I heard the landlady call you so.”</p>
+			<p>“Of course you’re <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Copplestone?” he remarked. “You can’t be anybody else⁠—besides, I heard the landlady call you so.”</p>
 			<p>“Yes,” replied Copplestone, distinctly puzzled by the other’s manner. “What then?”</p>
 			<p>The curate laughed quietly, and putting his fingers inside his heavy overcoat, produced a card which he handed over.</p>
 			<p>“My credentials!” he said.</p>
@@ -47,7 +47,7 @@
 			<p>Copplestone stared for a moment at the wide-brimmed hat, the round collar, the eminently clerical countenance. Then he burst into laughter. “I congratulate you on your makeup, anyway!” he exclaimed. “Capital!”</p>
 			<p>“Oh, I’ve been on the stage in my time,” responded the private detective. “I’m a good hand at fitting myself to various parts; besides I’ve played the conventional curate a score of times. Yes, I don’t think anybody would see through me, and I’m very particular to avoid the clergy.”</p>
 			<p>“And you left the stage⁠—for this?” asked Copplestone. “Why, now?”</p>
-			<p>“Pays better⁠—heaps better,” replied the other calmly. “Also, it’s more exciting⁠—there’s much more variety in it. Well, now you know who I am⁠—my name, by the by is Gilling, though I’m not the Reverend Gilling, as <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Wooler will call me. And so⁠—as I’ve made things plain⁠—how’s this matter going so far?”</p>
+			<p>“Pays better⁠—heaps better,” replied the other calmly. “Also, it’s more exciting⁠—there’s much more variety in it. Well, now you know who I am⁠—my name, by the by is Gilling, though I’m not the Reverend Gilling, as <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Wooler will call me. And so⁠—as I’ve made things plain⁠—how’s this matter going so far?”</p>
 			<p>Copplestone shook his head.</p>
 			<p>“My orders,” he said, with a significant look, “are⁠—to say nothing to anyone.”</p>
 			<p>“Except to me,” responded Gilling. “Sir Cresswell Oliver’s card is my passport. You can tell me anything.”</p>