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Updated: June 27, 2025
And now that he saw everything it seemed to him that the real truth might well lie in one word accident. "Coming round this parapet?" asked Gilling, who was looking narrowly about him. "No!" replied Copplestone. "I can't stand looking down from great heights. It makes my head swim. Are you?" "Sure!" answered Gilling. He took off his heavy overcoat and handed it to his companion.
Copplestone was wondering whether he ought to tell his companion of his own recent discoveries. Like all laymen, he had an idea that you can tell anything to a lawyer, and he was half-minded to pour out the whole story to Vickers, especially as he was Mrs. Greyle's solicitor. But on second thoughts he decided to wait until he had ascertained the state of affairs at Scarhaven.
Zachary Spurge, presently ushered in by Gilling, who carefully closed the door behind himself and his companion, looked as if his recent lodging had been of an even rougher nature than that in which Copplestone had found him at their first meeting.
"Now then, my man, quick I always keep my word!" "Hand the stick to Mr. Marston Greyle, Mr. Copplestone," said Audrey in her demurest manner. "I'm sure he would beat Chatfield soundly if he had heard what he said to me his cousin." "Thank you, but I'm in possession," said Copplestone, grimly. "Mr. Marston Greyle can kick him when I've thrashed him.
That he was not much used to the world on whose edge he just then stood Stafford gathered from a boyish trick of blushing through the tan of his cheeks. "I got a wire from Mr. Oliver yesterday Sunday," replied Mr. Copplestone. "I ought to have had it in the morning, I suppose, but I'd gone out for the day, you know gone out early. So I didn't find it until I got back to my rooms late at night.
"Didn't I tell you that one's often close to a thing when one seems furthest off it!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "Come here, my son, and look at what I've just found." He drew Copplestone away to a quiet corner and pointed out an old playbill, framed and hung on the wall.
He quickened his pace and followed her, catching her up as she came to a path which led towards the old church. At the sound of his hurrying steps she turned and faced him, and he saw in the light of a cottage lamp that she still looked troubled and perplexed. "Forgive me for running after you," said Copplestone as he went up to her.
"We're too late!" "That theory's not necessarily correct," replied Copplestone. "Sir Cresswell's message may have been quite right. For all we know the folks on the Pike had confederates on shore. Go carefully, Gilling let's see if we can make out anything in the way of footprints."
Greyle, to report all this to Sir Cresswell Oliver and Mr. Petherton? They ought to know." "I'm going, too," declared Copplestone, also rising. "Mrs. Greyle, I'm sure will entrust the whole matter to us. And Mr. Dennie will trust us with those papers." "Oh, certainly, certainly!" asserted Mr. Dennie, pushing his packet across the table.
They couldn't get the car to move, and it was some time before Swallow could persuade the landlord at the nearest inn to hire out a horse and trap to him. Altogether, it was near or just past midnight when he reached Scarhaven, and when he did get there, it was to see the lights of a steamer going out of the bay." "The Pike, of course," muttered Copplestone.
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