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Updated: May 17, 2025
Spargo made no answer. They entered the office, to be shown into a room where were already assembled Mr. Myerst, a gentleman who turned out to be the chairman of the company, and the officials of whom Rathbury had spoken.
"Nothing that one might call material, you know." "Didn't ask him what he meant?" suggested Spargo. "Oh, no not at all," replied Myerst. Spargo got up abruptly from his chair. "Then you missed one of the finest opportunities I ever heard of!" he said, half-sneeringly. "You might have heard such a story "
"And what did you say to that?" he asked quietly. Myerst looked from his questioner to Rathbury. And Rathbury thought it time to enlighten the caller. "I may as well tell you, Mr. Myerst," he said smilingly, "that this is Mr. Spargo, of the Watchman. Mr. Spargo wrote the article about the Marbury case of which you spoke when you came in. Mr.
He whispered something of his notions to the detective; Rathbury nodded a comprehensive understanding. "Let's hope we're going to see something!" he said. In the secretary's room a man waited who touched his forelock respectfully as the heads of the procession entered. Myerst set the box on the table: the man made a musical jingle of keys: the other members of the procession gathered round.
The whole lot is locked up safely and I'm willing to hand it over to you, Breton, when we go back to town, and the necessary proof is given as it will be that you're Maitland's son." Myerst paused to see the effect of this announcement, and laughed when he saw the blank astonishment which stole over his hearers' faces.
He was glad to pay me a nice sum every quarter to hold my tongue," replied Myerst, "and I was glad to take it and, naturally, I gained a considerable knowledge of him. He had only one friend Mr. Elphick, in there. Now, I'll you about him." "Only if you are going to speak respectfully of him," said Breton sternly. "I've no reason to do otherwise.
All right. Now, Mr. Myerst, right about face! Walk into the cottage, hands up, and remember there are two revolvers behind your back. March!" Myerst obeyed this peremptory order with more curses. The three walked into the cottage. Breton kept his eye on his captive; Spargo gave a glance at the two old men.
Walters and his wife had reason to remember him; Criedir had reason to remember him; so had Myerst; so had William Webster. But between a quarter past three, when he left the London and Universal Safe Deposit, and a quarter past nine, when he sat down by Webster's side in the lobby of the House of Commons, nobody seemed to have any recollection of him except Mr.
They knew what Myerst did not know that the stamps of which he spoke were lying in Spargo's breast pocket, where they had lain since he had picked them up from the litter and confusion of Chamberlayne's floor. "Why," asked Breton, after a pause, "why did you never accuse Cardlestone, or Chamberlayne, of the murder?" "I did!
"They're going through a quantity of papers. The two old gentlemen look very ill and very miserable. Myerst is evidently laying down the law to them in some fashion or other. I've formed a notion, Spargo." "What notion?" "Myerst is in possession of whatever secret they have, and he's followed them down here to blackmail them. That's my notion."
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