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Updated: May 19, 2025
"The old chap was in the Library when Ambrose Campany said that there was a clue in that Barthorpe history," he mused. "I saw him myself examining the book after the inquest. No, no, Mr. Harker! the facts are too plain the evidences too obvious. And yet what interest has a retired old tradesman of Wrychester got in this affair?
"That'll do!" answered Barthorpe. "Let's get to business." It was one o'clock in the morning when Barthorpe left Calengrove Mansions. But the eyes that had seen him enter saw him leave, and the shadow followed him through the sleeping town until he, too, sought his own place of slumber.
Halfpenny could not imagine the only thing really certain was that Barthorpe seemed resolved on laying it bare when Friday came. "God bless me! it's a most extraordinary complication altogether!" mused Mr. Halfpenny, once more alone in his own office. "It's very evident to me that Barthorpe Herapath is absolutely ignorant that he's suspected, and that the police are at work on him!
Halfpenny," he continued, turning and pointing contemptuously to Mr. Tertius, "as this is wholly informal, I'll begin with an informal yet pertinent question, to you. Do you know who that man really is?" "I believe that gentleman, sir, to be Mr. John Christopher Tertius, and my very good and much-esteemed friend," replied Mr. Halfpenny, with asperity. "Pshaw!" sneered Barthorpe.
Barthorpe is a small market-town in the Midlands Leicestershire, I believe, of no particular importance that I know of, but doubtless with a story of its own. Why should any one but a Barthorpe man, past or present, be interested in that story so far as to carry an old account of it with him? Therefore, I conclude this stranger was a Barthorpe man.
So I came home. And now then, doctor your turn! What were you after, down there at Barthorpe?" Bryce meditated his answer for a good five minutes.
The doctor noted this resemblance particularly, and he involuntarily glanced from the living to the dead. Barthorpe Herapath bent over his dead uncle for no more than a minute. His face was impassive, almost stern as he turned to the others. He nodded slightly to Mr. Tertius and to Selwood; then he gave his attention to the officials.
So when Barthorpe told me what he did, and explained his anxiety about the will, I saw my way to upsetting that will, for his benefit and for my own.
Triffitt, who had almost recovered his breath, pulled out a card and presented it with a bow. And Barthorpe suddenly seemed to form a conclusion. "All right!" he said. "Mr. Selwood, you know all the facts. Take Mr. Triffitt into that room we've just left, and give him a résumé of them. And listen! we can make use of the press. Mention two matters, which seem to me to be of importance.
If Jacob had died intestate Barthorpe would have taken what we may call everything, for his uncle's property is practically all in the shape of real estate, in comparison to which the personalty is a mere nothing. But there is a will, leaving everything to Margaret Wynne. If Barthorpe Herapath intends to contest the legality of that will " "Good heavens, is that possible?" exclaimed Mr. Tertius.
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