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Updated: May 29, 2025
"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.
Outside Triffitt gave his companion's arm a confidential squeeze. "Things are going well!" he said. "I wasn't a bit surprised at what that fellow told me I expected it. What charms me is that Barthorpe Herapath, who is certainly to be strongly suspected, is in touch with Burchill I didn't tell you that I met him on the stairs at Calengrove Mansions this afternoon.
And here we are at these Calengrove Mansions, and let's hope we haven't a hundred infernal steps to climb, and that we find the fellow in." The fellow was in. And the fellow, who had now discarded his mourning suit for the purple and fine linen which suggested Bond Street, was just about to go out, and was in a great hurry, and said so. He listened with obvious impatience while Mr.
Barthorpe could not even guess at it but Burchill had said, evidently knowing what he was talking about, that Jacob Herapath had taken vast pains to keep it for fifteen years. By the time Barthorpe had finished his lunch he had come to the conclusion that there was only one thing for him to do. He must go straight to Calengrove Mansions and interview Mr. Frank Burchill.
Calengrove Mansions turned out to be one of the smaller of the many blocks of residential flats which have of late years arisen in such numbers in the neighbourhood of Maida Vale and St. John's Wood.
He presently followed the footman from the room, and Peggie, for the first time since Jacob Herapath's death, suddenly let her face relax and burst into a hearty laugh. That evening Triffitt got Burchill's address from Carver, and next day he drew a hundred pounds from the cashier of the Argus and went off to Calengrove Mansions. In his mind there was a clear and definite notion.
Luckily for himself, Barthorpe knew where he was to be found, and he went straight off up Edgware Road to find him. Calengrove Mansions proved to be a new block of flats in the dip of Maida Vale; 35c was a top flat in a wing which up to that stage of its existence did not appear to be much sought after by would-be tenants.
Calengrove Mansions, Maida Vale," he said. "Um quarter of an hour's drive. Tertius you and I will go and see this young fellow at once." Mr. Tertius turned to Professor Cox-Raythwaite. "What do you think of this, Cox-Raythwaite?" he asked, almost piteously. "I mean what do you think's best to be done?"
True, Barthorpe had only once seen him, that he knew of that morning at the estate office, when he, Triffitt, had asked Selwood for information but then, some men have sharp memories for faces, and Barthorpe might recognize him and wonder what an Argus man was doing there in Calengrove Mansions.
Tertius looked deeply distressed. "You don't think " he began. "I might think a lot when I begin to think," said Mr. Halfpenny as they slowly descended the stairs from the desert solitude of the top floor of Calengrove Mansions. "But there's one thought that strikes me just now do you remember what Burchill's old landlady at Upper Seymour Street told us?"
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