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Updated: June 18, 2025
After the lapse of a few minutes he saw Colwyn returning from the direction of Clerkenwell. "He has got away," he said, as he reached Caldew. His voice was a little breathless, as though with running. "He? Who?" Colwyn drew him into the empty entrance hall before he answered: "Nepcote. He was watching outside. I saw him through the upstairs window.
"It is very pretty," said Caldew. "Have you any more of it?" He flattered himself that the assumption of carelessness in his tone was not overdone. "No," replied Musard. "It was the only piece of the rare kind I was ever lucky enough to obtain." "There was another small piece, Vincent," remarked Miss Heredith. "You brought it about ten years ago.
"I see that the revolver is still loaded in five chambers," said Caldew, as he put down the weapon. "Yes, and the sixth has been recently discharged. We don't require much clearer evidence than that. And look at this handkerchief. The blood on it is hardly dry yet." Caldew took the handkerchief in his hand. As Merrington remarked, the blood on it was hardly dry.
The hidden motive of the crime, as innocently laid bare by his sister, was strong, but was it strong enough to impel a woman like Miss Heredith, with the rigid principles of her birth, breeding, and caste, and a woman, moreover, who had spent her life in good works, to commit such an atrocious murder? Caldew considered this point long and thoughtfully.
On that slight information Caldew had pursued inquiries across a long two miles of country between Weydene and the moat-house, and had deemed himself fortunate in finding a farm labourer who, on his homeward walk that night, had been passed by a young man in a long coat making rapidly across the fields in the direction of Heredith.
Fate, after its cruel fashion, had left her on her razor edge for quite a long while before toppling her over, and Caldew reflected that he had been made the instrument of her fall. But what lay beyond the exposure of the housekeeper's identity? Why had she deceived Merrington about her daughter's presence in the house?
She did not feel called upon to add the additional information that she had taken it there herself, and locked it up, not half an hour before. Detective Caldew made a mental note of the fact that the motive for the crime was not robbery, unless, indeed, the murderer had become flurried, and fled. His eye, glancing round the room, was attracted by the window curtains, which were stirring faintly.
Caldew found no fault with the system. His great ambition was to obtain some opening which would bring him advancement and his share of the plums. He believed his opportunity had arrived that night. It had always been his dream to have the chance to unravel single-handed some great crime a murder for choice in which he alone should have all the glory and praise and newspaper paragraphs.
If you let us know when you're coming we'll keep open all night I don't think." Caldew pushed past him without deigning to parley, and opened a door adjoining the entrance pigeon-hole. A man was seated at the table within, reckoning the night's takings by the light of a candle. It was strange to see one so near the grave counting coppers with such avid greed.
With a quick imperative gesture to his companion, Colwyn ran swiftly along the remainder of the corridor and down the flight of stairs into Hatton Garden. Caldew followed more slowly, puzzled by the other's strange action. When he reached the doorway Colwyn was nowhere to be seen, so he waited in the entrance.
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