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Considering that Spargo had never gone through the experience of searching a man before, he made sharp and creditable work of seeing what the prisoner carried. And he forthwith drew out and exhibited a revolver, while Myerst, finding his tongue, cursed them both, heartily and with profusion. "Excellent!" said Breton, laughing again. "Sure he's got nothing else on him that's dangerous, Spargo?
"As if anybody on earth ever fancied they'd recognize him!" he said. "Well what are you going to do now, Spargo? I must go." Spargo, who had been digging his walking-stick into a crack in the pavement, came out of a fit of abstraction. "I?" he said. "Oh I'm going to the office."
"Says that the bludgeon is certainly his, and that he brought it from South America with him," announced Rathbury; "but that he doesn't remember seeing it in his rooms for some time, and thinks that it was stolen from them." "Um!" said Spargo, musingly. "But how do you know that was the thing that Marbury was struck down with?" Rathbury smiled grimly.
Before Spargo could reply to this suggestion an official entered the room and whispered a few words in the detective's ear. "Show him in at once," said Rathbury. He turned to Spargo as the man quitted the room and smiled significantly. "Here's somebody wants to tell something about the Marbury case," he remarked. "Let's hope it'll be news worth hearing." Spargo smiled in his queer fashion.
"The doctor says he must have been struck down from behind and a fearful blow, too. I'm much obliged to you, Mr. Breton." "Oh, all right!" said Breton. "Well, you know where to find me if you want me. I shall be curious about this. Good-bye good-bye, Mr. Spargo." The young barrister hurried away, and Rathbury turned to the journalist. "I didn't expect anything from that," he remarked.
Having no clear conception of what had led him to these scenes of litigation, Spargo went wandering aimlessly about in the great hall and the adjacent corridors until an official, who took him to be lost, asked him if there was any particular part of the building he wanted. For a moment Spargo stared at the man as if he did not comprehend his question. Then his mental powers reasserted themselves.
"You think and argue on modern lines which are, of course, highly superior. But how do you account for my having given Marbury Mr. Cardlestone's address and for his having been found dead murdered at the foot of Cardlestone's stairs a few hours later?" "I don't account for it," said Spargo. "I'm trying to." Mr. Criedir made no comment on this.
"And you want ?" "I want to find out the full significance of that bit of paper, and who wrote it," answered Spargo. "I want to know why that old man was coming to you when he was murdered." Breton started. "By Jove!" he exclaimed. "I I never thought of that. You you really think he was coming to me when he was struck down?" "Certain. Hadn't he got an address in the Temple?
Thereupon he made a most gracious bow in their direction; his broad face beamed in a genial smile, and he waved a white hand. "Do you know Mr. Elphick, Mr. Spargo?" enquired the younger Miss Aylmore. "I rather think I've seen him, somewhere about the Temple," answered Spargo. "In fact, I'm sure I have." "His chambers are in Paper Buildings," said Jessie. "Sometimes he gives tea-parties in them.
"They're going through a quantity of papers. The two old gentlemen look very ill and very miserable. Myerst is evidently laying down the law to them in some fashion or other. I've formed a notion, Spargo." "What notion?" "Myerst is in possession of whatever secret they have, and he's followed them down here to blackmail them. That's my notion."
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