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Horbury may have been murdered in his own house, and buried in his own cellar." "You're not joking?" said Neale. "Or you are!" "Far from it, Mr. Neale," answered Polke. "That may seem a very, very outrageous thing to say, but, I assure you, one never knows what may not have happened in these cases. However, Mrs.
"Nay!" he said. "There's a gentleman missing from Scarnham yonder, and it's thought he came out this way after dark, Saturday night, and something happened. But, of course, if you wasn't in these parts then " "I wasn't, nor within ten miles of 'em," said Creasy. "Who is the gentleman?" "Mr. Horbury, the bank manager," answered the policeman. "I know Mr.
"I'm not quite sure," replied Easleby, with candour. "But I think I shall get there, all the same. Now, didn't you say that from all the accounts supplied to you, this Mr. John Horbury was an eminently proper sort of person?
"I think your lordship must see that that is very unlikely without collusion between Horbury and herself," remarked Gabriel. "Mrs. Carswell," said Joseph, "has always been more or less of a mysterious person. We know nothing about her. I don't even know where Horbury got her from.
Horbury," remarked Creasy, with a glance at Neale and Betty. "I've talked to him a hundred-and-one times on this waste. So it's him, is it? Well, there's one thing you can be certain about." "What?" asked Betty eagerly. "Mr. Horbury wouldn't happen aught by accident, hereabouts," answered the tinker significantly. "He knew every inch of this Hollow.
Horbury is not at home," he answered. "He has the keys." Mr. Chestermarke made no reply. His hand went to his waistcoat pocket, his feet moved lower down the hall to a side-door sacred to the partners. He produced a key, opened the door, and motioned the clerks to enter. Once within, he turned into the partners' room. Five minutes passed before his voice was heard. "Neale!"
All I know is that nobody has any rights over it it's been what you might term common land ever since anybody can remember. This here Mr. Horbury that's missing your governor, sir I once met him out here, and had a bit of talk with him, and he told me that it isn't even known who worked them old lead-mines down there, nor who has any rights over all this waste.
"Precisely," interrupted Gabriel, with a bow. "You came to Mr. Horbury privately. Not to the firm." "I came to him knowing that he was your manager, and a man to be thoroughly trusted, and that he'd have safes and things in which he could deposit valuables in perfect safety," answered the Earl. "I never reflected for a moment on the niceties of the matter.
He never mentioned Scarnham to me." Easleby laid a finger on the marked newspaper. "You see some names of Scarnham people there, Mr. Stipp?" he observed. "Those names Horbury Chestermarke. You don't happen to know 'em?" "I don't know them," replied the manager, with obvious sincerity. "Banking people, all of them, aren't they?
It isn't my business to interfere with Gabriel Chestermarke or Godwin Markham in his money-lending affairs nor to trace Lord Ellersdeane's missing jewels. My job is to find John Horbury, or to get to know what happened to him." "And all this helps," answered Easleby. "Haven't you got anything?" "Don't know that I have," admitted Starmidge. "Just now, anyway.
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