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Updated: April 30, 2025
Crawshay," she said, "you seem to me to be wasting a lot of time worrying round a subject, when I don't know whether a straightforward question wouldn't clear it up for you. If you want to know what there is between those three, Jocelyn Thew and the two Beverleys, I don't know that I mind telling you. It's probably what you asked me to dine with you for, anyway." "My dear Miss Sharey!"
The captain glanced towards Brightman. "Do you want to ask the man any questions?" "Questions? No, sir!" the detective replied bitterly. "We've been done that's all there is about it. Never mind, they've only got six hours' start. We'll have that car traced, and " "Does any one know what time Mr. Jocelyn Thew left the steamer?" Crawshay interrupted. "He got away last night," the steward replied.
"Glad to see that you are able to come in and join us," Crawshay continued, unabashed. "You are, I believe, the physician in attendance on Mr. Phillips. I am very interested in illnesses. As a matter of fact, I am a great invalid myself." The doctor contented himself with a muttered monosyllable which was not brimful of sympathy. "This is a very remarkable expedition of yours," Crawshay went on.
"I will just have the coffin lid off for a few moments, and will see the doctor before I leave the ship." The men left the room together and were absent some ten minutes. Presently the detective returned to Katharine's room, and with him came Crawshay.
Crawshay let himself go for a few moments, and his companion listened to him approvingly. "It sounds quite like the real thing," she sighed, "but I never trust you Englishmen. You seem to acquire the habit of talking love to us girls just as easily as you drink a cocktail. You know that if I were to put my little hand in yours this moment across the table, you wouldn't know what to do with it."
Crawshay stood upright once more. He was convinced but puzzled. "Will you tell me what induced you to do this?" he asked. "We will tell you presently. As for the submarine outside, well, as you see, he is still sending up blue lights." Crawshay gathered the ashes together and thrust them into an envelope. "Your friend will be trying some of our Irish whisky, Denis," Michael Dilwyn invited.
"But I don't understand," Katharine faltered at last. "That packet has not been out of my possession, and I saw the notes put into it." "By whom?" Crawshay demanded. "By Mr. Phillips," she declared steadfastly, "by Mr. Phillips and Doctor Gant together." The detective turned the envelope over in his hand. "The bills seem to have disappeared," he observed.
Raffles smiled, but his eyebrows had gone up, and his shoulders followed suit. "You are perfectly right; it was very well done indeed. I wonder you didn't see it in the paper. In a dense fog on the moor yesterday good old Crawshay made a bolt for it, and got away without a scratch under heavy fire. All honor to him, I agree; a fellow with that much grit deserves his liberty.
I heard, too, of the coming Convention and of the altered spirit in English politics. I heard of these things just in time, for the U-boat was waiting outside in the bay." "You didn't part with the stuff?" Richard exclaimed eagerly. Sir Denis shook his head. "I burnt the papers upon my hearth," he told them. "Crawshay ran me to ground there, but his coming wasn't necessary.
There was a livid ring round his bull-neck, that he fingered tenderly. "Didn't know how much longer I might have to play the gent," he explained; "didn't know who you'd bring in." "Drink whiskey and soda?" inquired Raffles, when the convict was in the chair from which I had leapt. "No, I drink it neat," replied Crawshay, "but I talk business first. You don't get over me like that, Lor' love yer!"
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