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Updated: May 16, 2025
Then Davidge, cursing his men and his luck, took Barthorpe Herapath away, and Triffitt rushed headlong to Fleet Street, seething with excitement and brimming with news. The Argus came out in great style next morning, and it and Triffitt continued to give its vast circle of readers a similar feast of excitement for a good ten days.
"I think, Halfpenny," he said quietly, "I really think it is time all this extraordinary farce for it is nothing less! came to an end. May I be permitted to ask Mr. Barthorpe Herapath a few questions?" "So far as I am concerned, as many as you please, Tertius," replied Mr. Halfpenny. "Whether he'll answer them or not is another matter. He ought to."
So far as she knew she had no relations in the world but Barthorpe Herapath and there was something something shadowy and undefinable about Barthorpe which she neither liked nor trusted. Moreover, she had caught a glimpse of Barthorpe's face as he turned from looking at the will and hurried away, and what she had seen had given her a strange feeling of fear and discomfort.
One of them was the police-inspector who had been called to the Herapath Estate Office on the discovery of the murder; another was the detective who had accompanied him. Since the murder Triffitt had kept in touch with these two, and had found them affable and ready to talk; now, however, they had suddenly curled up into a dry taciturnity, and there was nothing to be got out of them.
He also promised if I suited him to give me his legal work. And, of course, I came." "Naturally," said Burchill. "And that's how long ago?" "Between fifteen and sixteen years," answered Barthorpe. "Did Jacob Herapath take you into his house?" asked Burchill, continuing the examination which Barthorpe was beginning to find irksome as well as puzzling.
Now, then, when this here Barthorpe was pointed out to me in Orchard Street, a few days ago, as the nephew of Jacob Herapath, he was talking to another gentleman, and as they stood there he lighted a cigar, and when he put his hand up, I see that ring again no mistaking it, guv'nor! He was the man.
"I know next to nothing about my family history," said Barthorpe; "but if my knowledge is helpful to what we or I want to talk about, fire ahead!" "Good!" responded Burchill. "Now, just tell me what you know about Mr. Jacob Herapath, about his brother, your father, and about his sister, who was, of course, Miss Wynne's mother. Briefly concisely." "Not so much," answered Barthorpe.
If he was merely acting, thought Barthorpe, he was doing it splendidly, and instead of writing dramatic criticism he ought to put on the sock and buskins himself. But somehow he began to believe that Burchill was not acting. And he was presently sure of it when Burchill laughed contemptuously. "Oh!" said Burchill. "Ah! So Mr. Jacob Herapath employs legal assistance your assistance in answering me?
There was nothing in their outward show to arouse suspicion at any other time, and under any other circumstances Triffitt would certainly have taken them for residents of the Herapath Flats. Carver, however, winked at him. "Detectives," he said. "They've gathered here while you were upstairs. What's up now, Triffitt? Heard anything?" "Piles!" answered Triffitt. "Heaps!
Now I wanted to see Jacob Herapath alone. And as there didn't seem to be any chance of it just then, I went home to my flat in Maida Vale." "Walked in?" asked Davidge. "If you're particular as to the means, I took a taxi-cab at the Gardens end of the High Street," replied Burchill, half-contemptuously. He turned his attention to Selwood and the Professor again.
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