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Updated: June 10, 2025
At five minutes past ten next morning, as he, Mallett and Coppinger came together out of the side-door of the bank, where they had been in close conference since half-past nine, on affairs of their own, Mr. Alderman Crood saw the poster on which was set out Brent's election address to the voters of the Castle Ward.
I've got Krevin Crood, and I've got Simon Crood safely under lock and key. But I haven't got the other two!" "What other two?" exclaimed Brent. Hawthwaite smiled sourly. "What other two?" he repeated. "Why, Mallett and Coppinger! They're off, though how the devil they got wind of what was going on I can't think. Leaked out, somehow." "You suspect them too?" asked Brent.
"Notice anything peculiar, or strange, or remarkable about it?" "Yes, sir, I notice that some of the letters were broken and some defective." "You noticed that as an expert mechanic, working at these things?" "It was obvious to anybody, sir. The letters some of them were badly broken." "Look at the dock, Owthwaite. Do you know the prisoner, Simon Crood?" "Well enough, sir!"
"Dirty work!" shouted Alderman Crood. "Such as nobody but the likes o' you Radicals and teetotallers and chapel folk! 'ud ever think o' doing. You say straight out before the town what's in your mind, Sam Epplewhite, and I'll see what the law has to say to you! I'm none going to have my character taken away by a fellow o' your sort. Say your say, here in public "
Instead of going away, the greater number of those who had been present lingered around the entrance, and Brent, leaving in Tansley's company a few minutes later, found high words being spoken between Alderman Crood and Epplewhite, who, prominent on the pavement, were haranguing each other amidst a ring of open-mouthed bystanders.
He turned at the foot of River Gate into Farthing Lane, the long, winding, tree-bordered alley that ran beneath the edge of the town past the outer fringe of houses, the alley wherein Hawthwaite had witnessed the nocturnal meeting between Mrs. Elstrick and Krevin Crood. Brent remembered that as he hastened along, running between the trees on one side and the high walls of the gardens on the other.
"Yes, it was there!" "You saw it?" "I saw it." "Have you ever seen it since?" "Never!" "Do you know if Mr. Krevin Crood took it out of the drawer?" "No!" "Did you see it in his possession that evening?" "No! I didn't. But it wasn't in the drawer next morning." "You are sure of that?" "Positive. I went into Mr. Mallett's dressing-room very early next morning, and I noticed that Mr.
Whatever anybody may say, and whatever men like your late cousin, and Epplewhite, and any of the so-called Progressives I'm not one, myself; it pays me to belong to neither party! whatever these folks may think or say, Simon Crood and his lot are top-dogs in this little old town!
Wallingford was slowly but surely getting at the knowledge of the system of secret payment which has gone on in this place for a long time under the rule of the Town Trustees. He had found out the truth, for instance, as regards Krevin Crood. Krevin Crood was supposed to be paid a pension of £150 a year; in reality he was paid £300 a year.
The bill-posting people had pasted a copy of it on a blank wall opposite; the three men, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, gathered round and read. Crood grew purple with anger. "Impudence!" he exclaimed at last. "Sheer brazen impudence! Him a stranger! Take up his cousin's work, will he? And what's he mean by saying that he's now a Hathelsborough man?"
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