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Updated: May 23, 2025
Walters received this announcement with proper surprise and horror, and the landlord suggested a little refreshment to his visitors. Spargo and Breton declined, on the ground that they had work to do during the afternoon; Rathbury accepted it, evidently as a matter of course. "My respects," he said, lifting his glass. "Well, now, perhaps you'll just tell me what you know of this man?
"Do you see it?" asked Spargo, quickly. "Well I want to find the man who went with Marbury to that hotel," replied Rathbury. "It seems to me " Spargo wagged his finger at his fellow-contriver. "I've found him," he said. "That's what I wrote that article for to find him. I knew it would find him. I've never had any training in your sort of work, but I knew that article would get him.
There's no room for any false bottom or anything of that sort, d'you see?" Rathbury also sized up the box's capacity. "Looks like it," he said disappointedly. "Well, what about the lid, then? I remember there was an old box like this in my grandmother's farmhouse, where I was reared there was a pocket in the lid. Let's see if there's anything of the sort here?"
You must go?..." He saw her into a taxi-cab presently, and when she had gone stood vacantly staring after the cab until a hand clapped him smartly on the shoulder. Turning, he found Rathbury grinning at him. "All right, Mr. Spargo, I saw you!" he said. "Well, it's a pleasant change to squire young ladies after being all day in that court. Look here, are you going to start your writing just now?"
After that, having exchanged a remark or two about the altered conditions of London, which, I understood him to say, he had not seen for a great many years, he took his key and his departure. I think there can be no doubt about this being the Mr. Marbury who was found murdered." "None at all, I should say, Mr. Myerst," said Rathbury. "And I'm much obliged to you for coming here.
Ronald Breton took the scrap of paper and looked at it with knitted brows. "By Jove!" he muttered. "So it has; that's queer. What's he like, this man?" Rathbury glanced at a clock which stood on the mantelpiece. "Will you step round and take a look at him, Mr. Breton?" he said. "It's close by." "Well I the fact is, I've got a case on, in Mr.
"There might be a false bottom in it," remarked Rathbury. "One never knows. Here, jump into this!" He pushed Spargo into a passing taxi-cab, and following, bade the driver go straight to the Yard. Arrived there, he locked Spargo and himself into the drab-visaged room in which the journalist had seen him before.
It is understood he will be brought up at Bow Street at ten o'clock tomorrow morning." Spargo hurried to New Scotland Yard as soon as he reached Paddington. He met Rathbury coming away from his room. At sight of him, the detective turned back. "Well, so there you are!" he said. "I suppose you've heard the news?" Spargo nodded as he dropped into a chair. "What led to it?" he asked abruptly.
That's who Marbury was Maitland. Dead certain!" Rathbury still stared at his caller. "Go on!" he said. "Tell all about it, Spargo. Let's hear every detail. I'll tell you all I know after. But what I know's nothing to that." Spargo told him the whole story of his adventures at Market Milcaster, and the detective listened with rapt attention. "Yes," he said at the end.
"Good-night!" he said gruffly. "Good-night, Rathbury," replied Spargo and sat down at his desk. But that night Spargo wrote nothing for the Watchman. All he wrote was a short telegram addressed to Aylmore's daughters. There were only three words on it Have no fear.
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