conversations.from: human
conversations.value: a title for a book about English, Andrew, Vereker with the genre: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'Death in the Stocks'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first three paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Death in the Stocks
  It was past midnight, and the people who lived in the cottages that clustered round the triangular green had long since gone to bed and to sleep. No lamp shone in any window, but a full moon sailed in a sky the colour of sapphires, and lit the village with a pale light, as cold as the sheen on steel. Trees and houses cast grotesque shadows, black as soot; every object in the moonlight stood out sharply defined, but without colour, so that even a prosaic line of petrol pumps looked a little ghostly.
  There was a car drawn up at one end of the green, its headlights throwing two golden beams ahead, and its engine throbbing softly. One of its doors stood open. Something moved in the shadow of the great elm tree beside the car; a man stepped into the moonlight, glanced this way and that, as though fearful of seeing someone, and after a moment's hesitation got quickly into the car and began to turn it, jarring his gears a little. He looked once towards the elm tree, at some object dimly discernible in the shadow, and then, having swung the car right round, drove away up the London road. The noise of his engine died slowly in the distance; somewhere at hand a watch-dog barked once, and then was silent.
  The shadow of the elm tree was shortening as the moon travelled across the sky: the eerie light seemed to steal under the branches, and presently shone on two feet in patent leather shoes, stuck through the holes in a pair of stocks. The feet remained motionless, and as the moonlight crept nearer the glimmer of a white shirt-front showed.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Kenneth, getting wind of Hannasyde's visit, loudly endorsed his uncle's verdict, adding a rider to the effect that if there was any double-crossing going on he should immediately change his solicitor. When Giles gave every evidence of regarding such a happening in the light of a Utopian dream, he forgot his original complaint in pointing out his own virtues as a client. He was in one of his more incalculable moods at the time, and his cousin's somewhat unwise rejoinder that the vaunted virtues had escaped his notice provoked him to give a trenchant résumé of his own case. He walked up and down the studio, with his eyes very bright, and with what Antonia called his elf-smile on his lips, and held his cousin partly in dismay, partly in admiration, of the ingenuity with which he postulated various fantastic ways in which he might, had he been feeling like it at the time, have murdered his half-brother.
  With the Superintendent's remarks in mind, Giles demanded a reason for putting Arnold Vereker's body in the stocks. The result of this, though entertaining, was not helpful, for Kenneth threw himself into what he conceived to be the spirit of the inquiry with huge zest, and, abandoning the dramatisation of himself as the murderer, advanced a quantity of the most astonishing theories, not the least brilliant of which involved the reputation of the Vicar of Ashleigh Green, a gentleman entirely unknown to him.
  Giles gave it up. There was nothing to be made of Kenneth, who, if he were indeed playing a dangerous game, obviously preferred (and Giles could only applaud his wisdom) to play it alone.
  A more immediately pressing anxiety than the question of whether or not he was guilty of murder was, in the estimation of his entourage, the problem of how to induce him to attend Arnold Vereker's funeral. Exhaustive, and at times heated, discussions, into which Giles was dragged, raged throughout the evening, Murgatroyd, Violet, Leslie and Giles being banded upon the side of respectability, against Kenneth, who was supported by his sister, and his own quite irrefutably logical arguments. The contest was won eventually by Violet, who, though lacking Murgatroyd's stern piety, was quite as insistent that Kenneth must at least appear to accord a proper respect to the dead. Finding that he was unmoved by argument or entreaty, she got up in a cold anger that was only partly feigned, and signified her intention of departing without permitting him to kiss her, or even touch her hand. Some spark of wrath kindled in his eyes, but was quenched by the closing of the door behind her. He hurried after her; what passed between them in the hall the others had no means of knowing; but in a few moments they came back together, Kenneth meekly bound by his word to attend the funeral, and Violet as charming and as sweet-tempered as she had been angry before.
  This theory, however, proved to be incorrect, for Mesurier attended the funeral the following afternoon, and returned with Kenneth to the flat afterwards. He had recovered his poise, and nothing could have been more graceful than his apology for having left Antonia in anger when they had last met. He apparently considered that his action in seeking out Superintendent Hannasyde at Scotland Yard with the revised version of his story exempted him from any future inquiry, but Kenneth did what he could to disillusion him on this point, and succeeded so well that within two days of being reconciled to his fiancée, Rudolph's nerves began to show signs of fraying, and he exclaimed, in exasperation at the Verekers' absorption in other and more everyday matters: 'I don't know how you two can go on as though nothing had happened, or was likely to happen!'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: When Giles gave every evidence of regarding such a happening in the light of a Utopian dream, he forgot his original complaint in pointing out his own virtues as a client. He was in one of his more incalculable moods at the time, and his cousin's somewhat unwise rejoinder that the vaunted virtues had escaped his notice provoked him to give a trenchant résumé of his own case. He walked up and down the studio, with his eyes very bright, and with what Antonia called his elf-smile on his lips, and held his cousin partly in dismay, partly in admiration, of the ingenuity with which he postulated various fantastic ways in which he might, had he been feeling like it at the time, have murdered his half-brother.
  With the Superintendent's remarks in mind, Giles demanded a reason for putting Arnold Vereker's body in the stocks. The result of this, though entertaining, was not helpful, for Kenneth threw himself into what he conceived to be the spirit of the inquiry with huge zest, and, abandoning the dramatisation of himself as the murderer, advanced a quantity of the most astonishing theories, not the least brilliant of which involved the reputation of the Vicar of Ashleigh Green, a gentleman entirely unknown to him.
  Giles gave it up. There was nothing to be made of Kenneth, who, if he were indeed playing a dangerous game, obviously preferred (and Giles could only applaud his wisdom) to play it alone.
  A more immediately pressing anxiety than the question of whether or not he was guilty of murder was, in the estimation of his entourage, the problem of how to induce him to attend Arnold Vereker's funeral. Exhaustive, and at times heated, discussions, into which Giles was dragged, raged throughout the evening, Murgatroyd, Violet, Leslie and Giles being banded upon the side of respectability, against Kenneth, who was supported by his sister, and his own quite irrefutably logical arguments. The contest was won eventually by Violet, who, though lacking Murgatroyd's stern piety, was quite as insistent that Kenneth must at least appear to accord a proper respect to the dead. Finding that he was unmoved by argument or entreaty, she got up in a cold anger that was only partly feigned, and signified her intention of departing without permitting him to kiss her, or even touch her hand. Some spark of wrath kindled in his eyes, but was quenched by the closing of the door behind her. He hurried after her; what passed between them in the hall the others had no means of knowing; but in a few moments they came back together, Kenneth meekly bound by his word to attend the funeral, and Violet as charming and as sweet-tempered as she had been angry before.
  This theory, however, proved to be incorrect, for Mesurier attended the funeral the following afternoon, and returned with Kenneth to the flat afterwards. He had recovered his poise, and nothing could have been more graceful than his apology for having left Antonia in anger when they had last met. He apparently considered that his action in seeking out Superintendent Hannasyde at Scotland Yard with the revised version of his story exempted him from any future inquiry, but Kenneth did what he could to disillusion him on this point, and succeeded so well that within two days of being reconciled to his fiancée, Rudolph's nerves began to show signs of fraying, and he exclaimed, in exasperation at the Verekers' absorption in other and more everyday matters: 'I don't know how you two can go on as though nothing had happened, or was likely to happen!'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Giles reflected. 'I don't think I know. It first occurred to me when Roger was killed, but it seemed wildly improbable. Then I made an excuse to call on her, and it struck me – perhaps I was already suspicious – that she was a little too anxious to convince me that she had an alibi for that evening. That might have been my imagination, of course, but it was enough to make me go back over everything I knew about her, and add it up, and find what the total was. To start with, I knew she was a gold-digger. My cousins were continually pointing that out to her. Also, I saw her setting her cap at Roger in a highly determined manner. She thinks more of money than anything else; that was always evident. To go on with, I learned from Kenneth (I think you were present too) that she was a close student of every kind of detective fiction. In itself that didn't mean anything, but added to the rest it seemed to me to mean quite a lot. Thirdly, Kenneth went to call on her on the night of Arnold's murder – and she was out.' He paused. 'Little things like that – not much in themselves. Also the fact that she was obviously not in love with Kenneth. I could never imagine why she got engaged to him. I remembered, too, that Miss Vereker had told me, quite light-heartedly, that Violet had always been in the habit of picking up well-to-do men in hotel lounges, and that sort of thing. Then came Roger's death. You didn't know it, of course – how should you? – but she did a thing that evening that seemed to me stupid, and curiously unlike her. At the last moment she told Kenneth Vereker that she wouldn't go with him to that ball. She put his back up so badly that he at once rang up Miss Rivers, and invited her to go in Violet's stead. At the time I was merely surprised that Violet had handled him so clumsily – for the attitude she had adopted was that it would be indecent for either of them to appear at such a function. Now I think that she did it on purpose to ensure Kenneth's going to the ball, and thus providing himself with an alibi. She meant Roger's death to look like a suicide, and it was she who launched the theory that he was in a state of nerves on account of the police. That was one of the most suspicious things she did, I thought. The first murder had been so perfectly planned, and was so successful, that it went to her head. She's a conceited young woman, you know, and she ran away with the idea that if you could fool people once you could fool them any number of times.'
  There was a long silence. Then Hannasyde said ruefully: 'If all this turns out to be true, you'll have made me look rather silly – Mr Holmes.'
  Giles laughed. 'I really don't think you can blame yourself! My young cousin has been building up far too damning a case against himself to admit of your looking beyond him for some really unlikely suspect. All the same, you've never felt sure that Kenneth did it, have you?'
  Hannasyde did not speak for a moment or two. Then he said: 'What a case! I apologise for not taking your amateur efforts seriously, Mr Carrington. You ought to be in the CID. That pistol, by the way, had been recently oiled. There should be traces of oil on the gloves that Violet Williams wore, or in her hand-bag, where I suppose she carried it. What a fool she was to use Miss Vereker's gun! Suspicion was bound to fall on young Vereker.'
  Hannasyde stretched his hand out across the table, and gripped Giles Carrington's. 'Splendid!' he said. 'Many congratulations! Yes, come in, Sergeant; while we've been chasing red-herrings, Mr Carrington has solved our case for us. We shall have to let Mr Vereker go after all!'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: We shall have to let Mr Vereker go after all!'. 'Many congratulations! Yes, come in, Sergeant; while we've been chasing red-herrings, Mr Carrington has solved our case for us. 'Splendid!' he said.'
  Hannasyde stretched his hand out across the table, and gripped Giles Carrington's. What a fool she was to use Miss Vereker's gun! Suspicion was bound to fall on young Vereker. There should be traces of oil on the gloves that Violet Williams wore, or in her hand-bag, where I suppose she carried it. That pistol, by the way, had been recently oiled. You ought to be in the CID. Then he said: 'What a case! I apologise for not taking your amateur efforts seriously, Mr Carrington. All the same, you've never felt sure that Kenneth did it, have you?'
  Hannasyde did not speak for a moment or two. 'I really don't think you can blame yourself! My young cousin has been building up far too damning a case against himself to admit of your looking beyond him for some really unlikely suspect.'
  Giles laughed. Then Hannasyde said ruefully: 'If all this turns out to be true, you'll have made me look rather silly – Mr Holmes.'
  There was a long silence. She's a conceited young woman, you know, and she ran away with the idea that if you could fool people once you could fool them any number of times. The first murder had been so perfectly planned, and was so successful, that it went to her head. That was one of the most suspicious things she did, I thought. She meant Roger's death to look like a suicide, and it was she who launched the theory that he was in a state of nerves on account of the police. Now I think that she did it on purpose to ensure Kenneth's going to the ball, and thus providing himself with an alibi. At the time I was merely surprised that Violet had handled him so clumsily – for the attitude she had adopted was that it would be indecent for either of them to appear at such a function. She put his back up so badly that he at once rang up Miss Rivers, and invited her to go in Violet's stead. At the last moment she told Kenneth Vereker that she wouldn't go with him to that ball. You didn't know it, of course – how should you? – but she did a thing that evening that seemed to me stupid, and curiously unlike her. Then came Roger's death. I remembered, too, that Miss Vereker had told me, quite light-heartedly, that Violet had always been in the habit of picking up well-to-do men in hotel lounges, and that sort of thing. I could never imagine why she got engaged to him. Also the fact that she was obviously not in love with Kenneth. 'Little things like that – not much in themselves.' He paused. Thirdly, Kenneth went to call on her on the night of Arnold's murder – and she was out. In itself that didn't mean anything, but added to the rest it seemed to me to mean quite a lot. To go on with, I learned from Kenneth (I think you were present too) that she was a close student of every kind of detective fiction. She thinks more of money than anything else; that was always evident. Also, I saw her setting her cap at Roger in a highly determined manner. My cousins were continually pointing that out to her. To start with, I knew she was a gold-digger. That might have been my imagination, of course, but it was enough to make me go back over everything I knew about her, and add it up, and find what the total was. Then I made an excuse to call on her, and it struck me – perhaps I was already suspicious – that she was a little too anxious to convince me that she had an alibi for that evening. It first occurred to me when Roger was killed, but it seemed wildly improbable. 'I don't think I know.Giles reflected