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Updated: May 9, 2025
To-morrow I will visit him myself." The officer went out, and Mr. Gryce sat for a few moments communing with himself, during which he took out a little package from his pocket, and emptying out on his desk the five little spangles it contained, regarded them intently. He had always been fond of looking at some small and seemingly insignificant object while thinking.
Heads moving, eyes peering, excitement visible in every face, but not a word from anybody. Mr. Gryce turned and pointed up at the clock. All looked but still no word from man or woman. One minute gone! Two minutes! Three! The silence had become portentous. The movement, involuntary and simultaneous, which had run through the crowd at first had stopped.
He cut short my conjectures with a low, expressive chuckle. "It was a long chase, I tell you," raising his voice still more; "a tight go; a woman in the business too; but all the women in the world can't pull the wool over the eyes of Ebenezer Gryce when he is on a trail; and the assassin of Mr.
Gryce looked as if he would like to disclaim this, but he was a judicious soul, and merely gave a twist to the vase which I thought would cost me that small article of vertu. "Shall we humor Miss Butterworth?" asked the Inspector.
"A bad case!" murmured Mr. Van Burnam, and with the phrase seemed to dismiss all thought of her. "A bad case!" echoed Mr. Gryce, "but," seeing how fast the look of resolution was replacing her previous aspect of frenzy, "one that will do mischief yet to the man who has deceived her." The stopping of the carriage roused her. Looking up, she spoke for the first time.
Gryce, find out the real assassin of Mr. Leavenworth, and free an innocent woman from the suspicion that had, not without some show of reason, fallen upon her? "Nay, but hear me." Measure for Measure.
Gryce with a certain forced humility which showed how much it cost her to submit. "Yes," he answered, less cheerfully and more authoritatively than was his manner at North Aston, speaking without a lisp and with a full Cumberland accent. "It is the best thing I can do for you all I have to offer."
"It may have flown there when it broke, or, what is much more probable, been kicked there by some of the many people who passed in and out of the room between the time of her death and that of its discovery." "But the register was found closed," urged the Coroner. "Was it not, Mr. Gryce?" That person thus appealed to, rose for an instant. "It was," said he, and deliberately sat down again.
"She fell just a few feet from the desk where she had been writing. No word, no cry, just a collapse and sudden fall. In olden days they would have said, struck by a bolt from heaven. But it was a bolt which drew blood; not much blood, I hear, but sufficient to end life almost instantly. She never looked up or spoke again. What do you make of it, Gryce?"
"Well," said he, "what about the visitor who came to see me last night?" "Like and unlike," I answered. "Nothing could induce me to say he is the man we want, and yet I would not dare to swear he was not." "You are in doubt, then, concerning him?" "I am." Mr. Gryce bowed, reminded me of the inquest, and left. Nothing was said about the hat.
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