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Updated: July 16, 2025
But Copplestone was neither timid nor suspicious, and he was already intensely curious about this adventure; wherefore, grasping Peter Chatfield's oaken cudgel firmly in his right hand, he jumped over the bridge and followed the narrow path into the gloom of the trees. He soon found that the valley resolved itself into a narrow and rocky defile.
"I do as a professional man," answered Vickers, stoutly, and with an appealing glance at his brother solicitor. "Mr. Petherton will tell you that we lawyers have a curious gift of intuition. With all Chatfield's badness, I do really believe that the old fellow does not know whether the man we'll call the Squire is Marston Greyle or not! He's doubtful he's puzzled but he doesn't know."
Chatfield's mouth grew wider. "You don't mean to tell me that a play-actor's own brother to a titled gentleman!" he said. "Good-night!" replied Copplestone, motioning his visitor towards the door. "I can't give you any more time, really. However, as you seem anxious, Mr.
What's more, you buried him at Bristol under the name of Mark Grey. Hang it all, man, what's the use of lying about it? you know that's all true!" He was watching Chatfield's big face keenly, and he was astonished to see that his dramatic impeachment produced no more effect than a slightly superior smile. Instead of being floored, Chatfield was distinctly unimpressed.
He daren't do anything save by Chatfield's permission." Copplestone walked on a few yards, ruminating. "Why!" he asked suddenly. "How do we know?" retorted Audrey. "Well, in cases like that," said Copplestone, "it generally means that one man has a hold on the other. What hold can Chatfield have on your cousin? I understand Mr. Marston Greyle came straight to his inheritance from America.
"Of course, he is playing a game of his own all through. He shall have his pension if I have the power to give it but believe him oh, no!" "Let's follow them," said Copplestone. "Something's going to happen if that is the Pike." "Look there, then," exclaimed Audrey as they began to descend the cliff. "Chatfield's already uneasy."
Their countenances, as they took their seats under the foremanship of a man whom Copplestone already knew as Chatfield's under-steward, showed plainly that they regarded the whole thing as a necessary formality and that they were already prepared with a verdict. This impression was strengthened by the coroner's opening remarks.
"But what fools Peter Chatfield and his associates must be from their own villainous standpoint to have encumbered themselves with all that weight of gold!" exclaimed Mrs. Greyle. "The folly of it seems incredible when they could have taken it in some more easily portable form!" "Ah!" laughed Copplestone. "But that just shows Chatfield's extraordinary deepness and craft!
Dennie and Gilling. "But my mother is not as strong as she looks and it would be a blow to her to leave this place and we are the Squire's tenants, and therefore at Chatfield's mercy. And you know that Chatfield does as he likes! Now do you understand?" "It maddens me to think that you should be at Chatfield's mercy!" muttered Copplestone.
So I'm not here in any representative or official sense." Chatfield's small eyes grew smaller with suspicious curiosity. "Oh?" he said questioningly. "Then what might you be here for, mister?" Copplestone stood up and rang the bell. "That's my business." he answered. "Sorry I can't give you any more time," he went on as Mrs. Wooler opened the door. "I'm engaged now. If you or Mr.
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