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Updated: May 31, 2025
He presently found himself in the presence of an astute-looking man who, having had his visitor's name sent in to him, regarded Glassdale with very obvious curiosity. "Mr. Glassdale?" he said inquiringly, as the caller took an offered chair. "Are you, by any chance, the Mr. Glassdale whose name is mentioned in connection with last night's remarkable affair?"
Glassdale did come to the town that morning and as soon as he got here, heard of Brake's strange death. That upset him and he went away only to come back today, go to Saxonsteade, and tell everything to the Duke with the result we've told you of." "Which result," remarked Ransford, steadily regarding Mitchington, "has apparently altered all your ideas about me!"
But, whether that Glassdale did it all off his own bat or whether he's somebody in with him, that's where the guilt'll be fastened in the end, my stepfather says. And it'll be so. Stands to reason!" "Anybody come forward about that reward your stepfather offered?" asked Bryce. "I'm not permitted to say," answered Sackville.
That secret wasn't confined to him and Glassdale either he let it out to somebody, or it was known to somebody. I understand from Inspector Mitchington here that on the evening of his arrival Brake was away from the Mitre Hotel for two hours. During that time, he was somewhere with whom? Probably with somebody who got the secret out of him, or to whom he communicated it.
"No, I'm sure he didn't!" answered Glassdale, readily. "If he had, I should have known. I was with him till noon the day he came here in London and when he took his ticket at Victoria for Wrychester, he'd no more idea than the man in the moon as to where those men had got to. He mentioned it as we were having a bit of lunch together before he got into the train.
Whether he was the sort who would be communicative or not, Bryce could not tell from outward signs, but he was going to try, and he presently found his card-case, took out a card, and strolling down the garden to the shady spot in which Glassdale sat, assumed his politest and suavest manner and presented himself. "Allow me, sir," he said, carefully abstaining from any mention of names.
It's a mistake to share secrets with more than one person." "There is a secret, then!" asked the solicitor, half slyly. "Might be," replied Glassdale. "Who's your client?" The solicitor pulled a scrap of paper towards him and wrote a few words on it. He pushed it towards his caller, and Glassdale picked it up and read what had been written Mr. Stephen Folliot, The Close.
But who were they? no answer to that question appeared on the handbills, which were, in each case, signed by Wrychester solicitors. To one of these Glassdale, on arriving in the old city, promptly proceeded selecting the offerer of the larger reward.
"How can I answer that, sir, when I tell you that I never heard him breathe one word of any children?" exclaimed Glassdale. "No! I know his reason for coming to Wrychester. It was wholly and solely as far as I know to tell the Duke here about that jewel business, the secret of which had been entrusted to Brake and me by a man on his death-bed in Australia.
And the result of his reflections was that he suddenly exchanged his idle sauntering for brisker steps and walked sharply round to the police-station, where he asked to see Mitchington. Mitchington and the detective were just about to walk down to the railway-station to meet Ransford, in accordance with his telegram. At sight of Glassdale they went back into the inspector's office.
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