United States or Guernsey ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Peter, no doubt, knew that you came to see us last night Peter knows all that goes on in Scarhaven. And he put things together, and decided that I might act as your cicerone over the Keep and the ruins, and so there you are!" "Why should he object to my visiting the Keep?" demanded Copplestone. "That's obvious! He considers you a spy," replied Audrey.
"If Spurge comes into Scarhaven," observed Copplestone, "he'll be promptly collared by the police. They want him for poaching." "Then they can get him when the proceedings are over," retorted the old lawyer, dryly. "They daren't touch him while he's giving evidence and that's all we want. Perhaps he won't come? Oh he'll come all right if we make it worth his while.
It was, however, well past the middle of the afternoon when these two returned to Scarhaven, very well satisfied with themselves.
But he forgot the press and the local reporters were so glad to get hold of what was really spicy news that all the Norcaster and Northborough papers have been full of it. Everybody's talking of it, as I said people are asking what this evidence from America is; why was there such mystery about the whole thing, and so on. And, since then, everybody knows that Squire Greyle has left Scarhaven."
You ain't a native o' this part I am. D'you think as how a Scarhaven jury's going to say aught agen its own Squire and landlord? Not it! I say, guv'nor all a blooming farce! Mark my words!" "All the same, you'll come?" asked Copplestone, who was secretly of Spurge's opinion. "You won't lose by it in the long run." "Oh, I'll be there," responded Spurge. "Out of curiosity, if for nothing else.
Copplestone has traced him here, to Scarhaven he was here yesterday, lunching at the inn but he can't get any further news. Did you see anything, or hear anything of him?" Marston Greyle, who had been inspecting the stranger narrowly in the fading light, shook his head. "Bassett Oliver, the actor," he said. "Oh, yes, I saw his name on the bills in Norcaster the other day.
He was a tall, well-built man of apparently thirty years, dressed in a rough tweed knickerbocker suit, but the dusk had now so much increased that Copplestone could only gather an impression of ordinary good-lookingness from the face that was turned inquiringly on his companion. The girl turned to him and spoke hurriedly. "This is my cousin, Mr. Greyle, of Scarhaven Keep," she murmured.
And I'm not afraid and as for my mother, if we don't return very soon, why, she knows where we are and there are police in Scarhaven, and " "How long are we going to be where we are?" asked Copplestone, grimly. "The thing's moving!" There was no doubt of that very pertinent fact.
Well, on his story and on his production of those papers birth certificates, Greyle papers of their life in America and so on everybody accepted Martin as the real man, and things seemed to go on smoothly till that Sunday when Bassett Oliver had the bad luck to go to Scarhaven. And now, Sir Cresswell, I'll tell you the plain and absolute truth about your brother's death!
You don't know me, though you may have seen me at the inquest on Mr. Bassett Oliver the other day my name's Vickers Guy Vickers." "Yes?" said Copplestone. "And " "I'm a solicitor, here in Norcaster," answered Vickers. "I at least, my firm, you know we sometimes act for Mrs. Greyle at Scarhaven.
Word Of The Day