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Baldwood is a family name. It was easy to assume the name of Wood. It would be likely to jump into the mind if one of them wanted to assume a name." "What a horrible plot," said Zena, with a shudder. "Horrible and clever," said Quarles. "I wonder if you are right, dear." "I have no doubt, but Wigan will be able to tell us presently." He was right, I think, practically in every particular.
"That is tantamount to saying they are both fine pieces of work," he answered. "And means, I suppose, that the real woman was somewhere between the two," said Zena. "Possibly, but with Musgrave's idea the predominant truth," said Quarles. "Why?" asked Zena. Quarles shrugged his shoulders. He had no answer to give. "The day after to-morrow, Wigan, we will go to the Agricultural Institute."
Delay or refuse, and your niece dies. In case you should deceive yourself and think this is not genuine, that we are powerless to carry out our threat, your niece herself has endorsed this letter." Quarles looked at the endorsement. "Is that Miss Wilkinson's signature?" he asked. "It is," Sir Michael answered. "I could swear to it anywhere," said Cayley.
"It is a pity you did not mention the adventure to your chief." "Yes, but " "You'd suspect a man with less evidence against him," Quarles answered quickly. "We'll look at the rooms, and the dead man, then you had better go back to the Yard and tell your chief all about it." Our search revealed very little. It was evident that Parrish had lived a lonely life, as he had told me.
He was standing by a writing table, talking to a young farmer, apparently a tenant on the estate because Sir Michael was dismissing him with a promise to consider certain repairs to some outbuildings. As the farmer passed me on his way to the door Sir Michael held out his hand. "You are later than I expected, and I thought Mr. Quarles " Then he laughed.
"I am not tied so tightly as I might be." "Good. With luck you may yet be in time to prevent Miss Belford getting away." "I don't believe she has anything to do with the chalice," I answered. "All the same, I should take another journey to Walham Green," said Quarles.
"Then we do away with the theory of suicide?" I said. "Well, the absence of any weapon appears to do that," said Quarles. "What was the weapon? A knife of some kind, a rusty knife and rather jagged, I fancy. The wound suggested that it was jagged, and in spite of the washing my lens revealed traces of rust. Rather a curious knife to commit murder with. That was my second mental note.
It was probably on account of the acumen he had shown in solving the mystery of Arthur Bridwell's death that the government employed Quarles in the important inquiry concerning a stolen model. For political reasons nothing got into the papers at the time, but now there is no further need of secrecy.
At corners he gained on us, I think he must have run the moment he was out of sight, and in one short street we were only just in time to see him disappear round a corner. "I'm going to give this up soon, Wigan," said Quarles as we hurried in pursuit. "I don't care how many jewels the chalice had in it." We were round the corner.
General William A. Quarles, of Tennessee, was one of the Confederate generals who were wounded in this battle, and after incurring his wound was taken to the house of a Tennessee planter, Col. McGavock, about a mile from Franklin, near the Harpeth river. Two or three other wounded Confederate officers of less rank were taken to the same place. When the Confederates retreated from Nashville, Gen.
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