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And Vickers hurried his little party up a gangway and on to the deck. A hard-faced, keen-eyed, man, evidently in authority, came forward. "Are you the captain of this vessel?" demanded Vickers in tones of authority. "You are? I am Mr. Vickers, solicitor, of Norcaster. I give you formal warning that the man you have known as Marston Greyle is not Marston Greyle at all, but an impostor.
"If we're going to have a quiet talk," he went on, "we'd better have it now no one's about, and if any one sees us from a distance they'll only think we're, what we look to be casual acquaintances. Now what is your job?" Gilling looked about him and then perched himself on the wall. "To watch Marston Greyle," he replied. "They suspect him?" asked Copplestone. "Undoubtedly!"
Both were wondering, as they went, about the same thing the evident anxiety and mental uneasiness of Marston Greyle. Copplestone saw little of his bed that night. At seven o'clock in the evening came a telegram from Sir Cresswell Oliver, saying that he and Petherton were leaving at once, would reach Norcaster soon after midnight, and would motor out to Scarhaven immediately on arrival.
"Well, gentlemen," he said, "we have paid our visits, and I suppose I had better tell you at once that we are no wiser as to actual facts than we were when we left you earlier in the afternoon. The man Ewbank stands emphatically by his story; Mr. Marston Greyle says that he cannot remember any meeting with my brother in America, and that he certainly did not call on him here on Sunday: Mrs.
Greyle asked if a journey to that place would be too much for him he said with a laugh, that over there in the United States a journey of five hundred miles would be considered a mere jaunt! He was very plucky, poor fellow, but " Dr. Tretheway ended with a significant shake of the head, and his two visitors left him and went out into the autumn sunlight.
Lord Altmore said in so many words 'I have a sort of uneasy feeling, after reading the evidence at that inquest, and hearing what my steward's impressions were, that this man calling himself Marston Greyle may not be Marston Greyle at all and I shall want good proof that he is before I even consider the proposal he has made to me. There! So what's to be done?" "The law, ma'am," observed Mr.
There's nothing to prevent Miss Greyle there coming into her rights I can prove 'em my father can prove them. So is it any use doing what that old gentleman's just worrying to do? You can all see what he wants he's dying to hand me over to the police."
The two younger men received this announcement with no more than looks of astonished inquiry, but the elder one coughed significantly, had further recourse to his snuff-box and turned to Mrs. Greyle with a knowing glance. "My dear lady!" he said impressively. "Now this is a matter in which I believe I can be of service real service!
Greyle would be able to rest for a long time at a stretch. But I formed my own conclusions." "And they were what?" asked Gilling. "That he would not live long," said the doctor. "Finding that he was going to the neighbourhood of Norcaster, where there is a most excellent school of medicine, I advised him to get the best specialist he could from there, and to put himself under his treatment.
There was a certain amount of insistence in the last few words which puzzled Copplestone also they conveyed to him a queer suggestion which repulsed him; it was almost as if the speaker was appealing to him to use his own common-sense about a difficult question. And before he could make any reply Mrs. Greyle put a direct inquiry to him. "What is going to be done?"
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