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But certain it is that for some time before his being apprehended he had been very busy in committing such exploits and for his courage and dexterity was looked upon as one of the chief of the gang. Isaac Ashley, who was Rawlins's companion, and who went commonly amongst them by the nickname of Black Isaac, was a fellow of a very different cast.
"There are two John Rawlins's the one you know; and, well, the other one. I should be sorry to show you the other one." "For the sake of your daughter I don't want to see the other one." "Then why do you pit yourself against me like this?" "I don't think you are displaying your usual lucidity," Chris said, coolly. Her heart was beating fast, but she did not show it. "Just reflect for a moment.
There was just the ghost of a smile on Rawlins's lips. "There is a man of that name," he said, slowly, "who attained considerable notoriety in the States. People said that he was the dernière cri of refined rascality. He was supposed to be without feeling of any kind; his villainies were the theme of admiration amongst financial magnates.
Chris had no reply for a moment or two. Rawlins's suggestion had burst upon her like a bomb. And it was all so dreadfully, horribly probable. Henson could have done this thing with absolute impunity. It was impossible to imagine for a moment that David Steel was the criminal. Who else could it be, then, but Reginald Henson? "I'm afraid this has come as a shock to you," Rawlins said, quietly.
It throws too many shadows. I seem to see people behind you, and I'm afraid to look." Nothing aggressive survived in Rawlins's voice. "We can work well enough without it, sir." Robinson snapped off the light. The darkness descended eagerly upon them. Above the noise of the spades in the soft earth Bobby heard indefinite stirrings.
Rawlins's parlour when he was there, to be played with and petted.
That accounted for their frequent excursions upstairs during the afternoon, for Rawlins's ascent as soon as they had returned from the grave. They had evidently found something to sharpen their suspicions, and Graham probably knew what it was. Robinson took out his watch. "We can't put this off too late," he mused. The detective at his heels, he walked to the library. Bobby started after them.
"If that is so," Paredes said easily, "the nature of my wound would suggest that she is guilty of the crimes in the old room. Why not go out and arrest her then? She might explain everything except the return to life of Mr. Blackburn. I'm afraid that's rather beyond you in any case. But at least find her." Robinson joined in Rawlins's laugh. "Why go outside for that?" Paredes started.
Two tiny points of flame danced in Rawlins's eyes. "Henson would never have dared," he said. "My mind was quite easy on that score." "I understand," Chris murmured. "And you kept the cigar-case?" "Yes, I rather liked it. And I could afford a luxury of that kind just then." "Then why did you dispose of it to Rutter's in Moreton Wells? And why Moreton Wells?"
If he didn't mail it, that was stolen with the rest of the stuff. Rawlins's right. He waited too long to make his arrest." Again Bobby wondered if the man would bring matters to a head now. He could appreciate, however, that Robinson, with nothing to go on but Howells's telephoned suspicions, might spoil his chances of a solution by acting too hastily. Rawlins strolled in.
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