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Updated: May 4, 2025
Gilverthwaite's age say, just over sixty years or so, dressed in a gentlemanlike fashion, and wearing good boots and linen and a tweed suit of the sort affected by tourists.
Gilverthwaite's bidding, I had ridden out from Berwick to find in that lonely spot. But I knew, of course, that James Gilverthwaite himself had not foreseen this affair, nor thought that I should find a murdered man. And as I at last drew breath, and lifted myself up a little from staring at the corpse, a great many thoughts rushed into my head, and began to tumble about over each other.
And two years had gone by since then, and one reason why I had no objection to earning Mr. Gilverthwaite's ten pounds was that Maisie and I meant to wed as soon as my salary was lifted to three pounds a week, as it soon was to be, and we were saving money for our furnishing and ten pounds, of course, would be a nice help.
We had already bought the beginnings of our furnishing, and had them stored in an unused warehouse at the back of her father's premises; with Mr. Gilverthwaite's bank-note, lying there snugly in waiting for me, we should be able to make considerable additions to our stock, and the wedding-day would come nearer.
Lindsey having taken their supper before we got in was sitting in a corner by the fire, eyeing the stranger from Dundee with evident and curious interest. "I've heard of you, sir," said he. "You gave some evidence at the inquest on Phillips about Gilverthwaite's searching of your registers, I think?"
Is it that you're thinking about?" "Well, I was not, Mr. Lindsey," said I. "I was just wondering if you must know how it was that, as he was here, you didn't tell Sir Gilbert about that signature of his brother's that you found on Gilverthwaite's will." He shared a sharp look between me and the door but the door was safely shut. "No!" he said. "Neither to him nor to anybody, yet a while!
I, who knew something of Gilverthwaite's habits, took it that these were the places he had visited during his seven weeks' stay with us. And folded in the map were scraps of newspaper cuttings, every one of them about some antiquity or other in the neighbourhood, as if such things had an interest for him.
The superintendent of police, Mr. Murray, a big, bustling man, was outside our house with Chisholm when we got there, and after a word or two between us, we went in, and were presently upstairs in Gilverthwaite's room.
Hanson's coming and her revelations as to some, at any rate, of James Gilverthwaite's history, we were just as wise as ever at the end of the first week after the murder of John Phillips. And it was just the eighth night after my finding of the body that I got into the hands of Abel Crone.
This," he continued, as he produced Gilverthwaite's will, and laid it before his visitor, "is the will of the man whose coming to Berwick ushered in all these mysteries. Now, then do you see who was one of the witnesses to the will? Look, man!" Mr. Portlethorpe looked and was startled out of his peevishness. "God bless me!" he exclaimed. "Michael Carstairs!" "Just that," said Mr. Lindsey.
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