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Updated: May 19, 2025
Breton stared at the journalist as if he had just announced that he had seen Mr. Septimus Elphick riding down Fleet Street on a dromedary. He seized Spargo's elbow. "Come on!" he said. "I have a key to Mr. Elphick's door, so that I can go in and out as I like. I'll soon show you whether he's gone or not." Spargo followed the young barrister down the corridor.
"Is that what you're going to say in your article tonight?" she asked, quietly. "No!" replied Spargo, promptly. "It isn't. I'm going to sit on the fence tonight. Besides, the case is sub judice. All I'm going to do is to tell, in my way, what took place at the inquest." The girl impulsively put her hand across the table and laid it on Spargo's big fist.
There was little traffic in the wide street beneath Spargo's windows; little passage of people to and fro on the sidewalks; here a countryman drove a lazy cow as lazily along; there a farmer in his light cart sat idly chatting with an aproned tradesman, who had come out of his shop to talk to him.
I couldn't sleep in any bed now that I've heard there's somebody ahead of us. Go first, old chap, and I'll follow." Breton went steadily forward along the road. That was easy work, but when he turned off and began to thread his way up the fell-side by what was obviously no more than a sheep-track, Spargo's troubles began.
If the coffin to which they were digging down contained a body, and that the body of the stockbroker, Chamberlayne, then a good deal of his, Spargo's, latest theory, would be dissolved to nothingness. But if that coffin contained no body at all, then " "They're down to it!" whispered Breton. Presently they all went and looked down into the grave.
What did he do? To whom did he speak? No answer came to these questions. "That shows," observed young Mr. Ronald Breton, lazing an hour away in Spargo's room at the Watchman at that particular hour which is neither noon nor afternoon, wherein even busy men do nothing, "that shows how a chap can go about London as if he were merely an ant that had strayed into another ant-heap than his own.
And with his knowledge of men, he knew that all Spargo's journalistic instincts had been aroused, and that he was keen as mustard to be off on a new scent. "Remarkable remarkable, Mr. Myerst!" he assented. "What do you say, Mr. Spargo?" Spargo turned slowly, and for the first time since Myerst had entered made a careful inspection of him. The inspection lasted several seconds; then Spargo spoke.
Oppressed with the splendour and grandeur of the Watchman building, he had removed his hard billycock hat as he followed the boy, and he ducked his bared head at the two young men as he stepped on to the thick pile of the carpet which made luxurious footing in Spargo's room.
And he dropped into a seat at Miss Jessie Aylmore's side, and looked around him as if he were much awed by his surroundings. "I suppose one can talk until the judge enters?" he whispered. "Is this really Mr. Breton's first case?" "His very first all on his own responsibility, any way," replied Spargo's companion, smiling. "And he's very nervous and so's my sister. Aren't you, now, Evelyn?"
He was moving away when Elphick caught him by the sleeve. "A word just a word!" he said. "You you have not told the the boy Ronald of what you know? You haven't?" "I haven't," replied Spargo. Elphick tightened his grip on Spargo's sleeve. He looked into his face beseechingly. "Promise me promise me, Mr. Spargo, that you won't tell him until you have seen me in the morning!" he implored.
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