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Chatfield called on us an hour ago, took my key away from me, and solemnly informed us that Scarhaven Keep is strictly closed until further notice!" The look of blank astonishment which spread over Copplestone's face on hearing this announcement seemed to afford his companion great amusement, and she laughed merrily as she signed to him to turn back towards the woods.
Captain Copplestone's rapture knew no bounds when he clasped little Gertrude in his arms once more.
She went out of the inn, laughing and chattering, but once outside she suddenly became serious, and she involuntarily laid her hand on Copplestone's arm as they turned down the hillside towards the quay. "I say!" she said in a low voice. "I wasn't going to ask questions in there, but what's going to be done about this Oliver affair? Of course you're stopping here to do something. What?"
Audrey's brows had been gathering in lines of dismay and perplexity all the time Copplestone was talking, but her mother showed no signs of anything but complete composure, crowned by something very like satisfaction, and she nodded a ready acquiescence in Copplestone's proposal. "By all means!" she responded. "Bring Mr. Gilling in at once."
"You say the inquest will be held tomorrow?" he asked. The doctor looked his questioner up and down with an inquiry which signified doubt as to Copplestone's right to demand information. "In the usual course," he replied stiffly. "Then his brother, Sir Cresswell Oliver, and his solicitor, Mr. Petherton, must be wired for from London," observed Copplestone, turning to Greyle.
The housekeeper had emerged from a little sitting-room, and had overheard this conversation. "No, sir," she said, "we have no one here of that name." Captain Copplestone's dark face grew deadly pale. "A trap!" he muttered to himself; "a snare! That letter was a forgery!" And without a word to the people of the house, he darted back to the street, sprang into the chaise, crying to the postillions,
She showed a fine set of even white teeth as she made this remark, and her eyes sought Copplestone's again with a direct challenge. Copplestone looked calmly at her, half-smiling; he was beginning, in his youthful innocence, to think that he already understood this type of young woman. And seeing him smile, Addie also smiled.
"He's not dead!" he exclaimed. "Only unconscious from a crack on his skull. Gilling! where's that brandy you brought? hand me the flask." Zachary Spurge watched in silence as Vickers and Gilling busied themselves in reviving the stricken man. Then he quickly pulled Copplestone's sleeve and motioned him away from the group. "Guv'nor!" he muttered.
"Aye!" he said, reflectively. "Aye, I expected to hear that. That's Copplestone's work, of course I knew he was some sort of detective as soon as I got speech with him. His work and that there Sir Cresswell Oliver's as is making a mountain out of a molehill about his brother, who, of course, broke his neck quite accidental, poor man, and of that London lawyer Petherton.
"And where would you find money to take summonses out?" he said, with a look of contempt, "I should think you and your mother's something better to do with your bit o' money than that. Now then, no more words! back you turn!" Copplestone's temper had been gradually rising during the last few minutes. Now, at the man's carefully measured taunts, he let it go.
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