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Updated: May 24, 2025
"There's no doubt Krevin's told the true story at last, but he and Simon are still in custody and will be until, perhaps, to-morrow. We want to know a bit more yet. But I'll tell you what, Mr. Brent, this morning's work has broken up the old system! The Town Trustees and the ancient regime, as they call it gone! Smashed, Mr. Brent "
The fragment went the round of the bench of magistrates, and Tansley whispered to Brent that if Meeking could prove that Krevin Crood had taken that handkerchief out of Mallett's drawer, and had thrown it away on the following evening in the Mayor's Parlour, Krevin's neck was in danger. "But there's a link missing yet," he murmured. "How did Krevin get at Wallingford? They've got to prove that!
"Krevin's the culprit-in-chief." "Well, there they both are anyway," said the landlord. "And, if I know anything about the law, it's as serious a thing to be accessory to a murder as to be the principal in one. What do you say, Mr. Brent?" Brent made no reply. He was thinking. So this was what Hawthwaite had meant when he said, the day before, that all was ready?
"I want no advice!" retorted Krevin. Simon had been at his elbow, anxious and pleading, for the last minute: he, it was very evident, was sorely concerned by Krevin's determination to speak. "I claim my right to have my say, at this stage, and I shall have it all this has gone on long enough, and I don't propose to have it go on any longer.
But hullo! as nobody's come forward this morning, Krevin's treating himself to a drink! That's his way he'll get his drink for nothing, if he can, but, if he can't, he's always got money. Old cadger!" Brent was watching Krevin Crood. As Peppermore had just said, nobody had joined Krevin at the bar.
Talk about your Local Government Board inquiry! why, five minutes of Krevin's tongue-work did more than half a dozen inquiries. I tell you, sir, the old system's dead the Crood gang was smashed to pieces in that court this morning! Somehow, it's that that interests me most, Mr. Brent. But business!" He turned to the plain-clothes man, and nodded towards the door.
He knew, too, that it would never have come out if Krevin himself had not been in danger. A feeling of almost physical nausea came over him as he remembered the callous, brutal cynicism of Krevin's last words, "If it's going to be my neck or hers, I prefer it to be hers!" A woman! yet, a murderess; the murderess of his cousin, whose death he had vowed to avenge.
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