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That was why be transferred his abilities to Market Milcaster." "You can prove all this, I suppose?" remarked Spargo. "Every word every letter! But about the Market Milcaster affair: Your father, Breton, was right in what he said about Chamberlayne having all the money that was got from the bank.
"And now we shall never know if he did kill John Maitland or if he didn't. So that's done with!" Old Elphick suddenly sat up in his chair, pushing Spargo fiercely away from his side. "He didn't kill John Maitland!" he cried angrily, attempting to shake his fist at Myerst. "Whoever says he killed Maitland lies. He was as innocent as I am.
'I've something here I'd like to show you, he said, unlocking the box. 'It's " "Stop a bit," said Spargo. "Where did he take the key from with which he unlocked the box?" "It was one of several which he carried on a split ring, and he took the bunch out of his left-hand trousers pocket," replied Mr. Criedir. "Oh, I keep my eyes open, young gentleman! Well he opened his box.
"I'm willing to sell that secret, but not for two half-sovereigns and two or three drops of cold gin. If Maitland left all that money you told Jane Baylis of, when I was listening to you from behind the hedge, my secret's worth something." Spargo suddenly remembered his bit of bluff to Miss Baylis. Here was an unexpected result of it.
"Though I say it as shouldn't, as the saying goes, I don't think you could find better brown sherry than that from Land's End to Berwick-upon-Tweed, Mr. Spargo no, nor further north either, where they used to have good taste in liquor in my young days! Well, here's your good health, sir, and I'll tell you about Maitland." "I'm curious," said Spargo. "And about more than Maitland.
I picked it up just now in Cardlestone's room, when you were looking into his bedroom." "But that, after all, proves nothing. Those mayn't be the identical stamps. And whether they are or not " "What are the probabilities?" interrupted Spargo sharply. "I believe that those are the stamps which Maitland your father! had on him, and I want to know how they came to be in Cardlestone's rooms.
Spargo thought awhile, pacing up and down the river bank. "I daresay you're right," he said. "Now, what's to be done?" Breton, too, considered matters. "I wish," he said at last, "I wish we could get in there and overhear what's going on. But that's impossible I know that cottage. The only thing we can do is this we must catch Myerst unawares. He's here for no good. Look here!"
There was nobody near them and the girl spoke freely and warmly. "But you will come you will come today and be properly thanked," she said. "You will won't you?" Spargo allowed himself to retain possession of the hand. Also he took a straight look into Jessie Aylmore's eyes. "I don't want thanks," he said. "It was all a lot of luck. And if I come today it will be to see just you!"
"Thank you as I do for all your kindness and assistance, and get off to town by this 1.20," replied Spargo. "And I shan't fail to let you know how things go on." "One moment," said the old gentleman, as Spargo was hurrying away, "do you think this Mr. Aylmore really murdered Maitland?" "No!" answered Spargo with emphasis. "I don't!
Criedir in the past at that establishment there was to be none done there in the future by him, for there were newly-printed bills in the window announcing that the place was to let. And inside he found a short, portly, elderly man who was superintending the packing-up and removal of the last of his stock. He turned a bright, enquiring eye on the journalist. "Mr. Criedir?" said Spargo.
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