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Updated: May 28, 2025
"And, of course, you want to make something out of your knowledge?" he said presently. "Of course," laughed Burchill. He opened a box of cigars, selected one and carefully trimmed the end before lighting it. "Of course!" he repeated. "Who wouldn't? Besides, you'll be in a position to afford me something when you come into all that." "The will?" suggested Barthorpe.
I knew so much of Jacob Herapath's methods and doings that it was quite a reasonable thing for this man to be coming out of the estate offices just before midnight." "Exactly, sir I follow you," said Davidge. "Ah! and what might this Mr. X. do then, Mr. Burchill?"
"That's against all the rules all the rules of " "Of shady society," sneered Barthorpe. "Confound it, man, what do you beat about the bush so much for? Hang it, I've a pretty good notion of you, and I daresay you've your own of me. Why can't you tell me?" "You forget that I offered not to tell for ten thousand pounds," said Burchill. "Therefore I should want quite as much for telling.
When the detectives had hurried Burchill into a taxi-cab which suddenly sprang into useful proximity to the excited group, Davidge spat on the ground and made a face. He motioned Cox-Raythwaite, Selwood, and the two reporters to go down the street; he himself turned to Dimambro.
"Oh he's dead, then?" remarked Burchill. "He's dead years ago," replied Barthorpe. "He died before I came to England. I, of course, was born out there. "Never mind you just now," interrupted Burchill. "Keep to the earlier branches of the family. Your grandfather had one other child?" "A daughter," assented Barthorpe. "I never saw her, either. However, I know that her name was Susan.
"That entirely depends." "On what?" "Circumstances!" "Have the circumstances got anything to do with this secret?" "Everything! More than anything now." "Now what?" "Now that Jacob Herapath is dead. Look here!" continued Burchill, leaning forward and speaking impressively. "Take my counsel. Leave this for the moment and come to see me now, when? Tonight. Come tonight. I've nothing to do.
Frank Burchill, who, all unconscious of the fact that more than one pair of sharp eyes had followed him from his flat to Mr. Halfpenny's office, and that their owners were now in the immediate vicinity, came in full of polite self-assurance, and executed formal bows while he gracefully apologised to Mr. Halfpenny for being late. "It's all right, all right, Mr.
At times, I mean, you'd meet him at dinner other times, you didn't." Burchill paused for a while; when he asked his next question he seemed to adopt a more particular and pressing tone. "Now have you the least idea who Tertius is?" he asked. "Not the slightest!" affirmed Barthorpe. "I never have known who he is.
"Well," he said, "nobody can deny that there's a deep mystery about Jacob Herapath's death. And knowing what I do about this Bentham or Burchill, and that he's recently been secretary to Jacob Herapath, I'd just like to know a lot more. And I mean to!" "Got any plan of campaign?" asked Carver. "I have!" affirmed Triffitt with sublime confidence.
It's a good thing to have two strings to one's bow, Mr. Frank Burchill, in dealing with birds like you. This is my second string. Take him off," he added, motioning to his men, "and get him searched, and put everything carefully aside for me especially a cheque for ten thousand pounds which you'll find in one of his pockets."
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