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Updated: May 1, 2025
A small force such as I can hide in that wood, and another in reserve at High Nick, which, guv'nor, is a deep hole in the hill-top that's the ticket!" "Spurge is right," said Sir Cresswell. "You youngsters go with him get a motor-car and I'll see about following you over to High Nick with the detectives. Now, what about being armed?"
The marks of a heavy, inanimate body having been dragged through the wet grass were evidence enough, and Copplestone and Spurge followed them to a corner of the old tower where they ceased. Spurge glanced round that corner and uttered a sharp exclamation. "Just what I expected!" he said. "Leastways, what I expected as soon as I see Jim a-lying there. Guv'nor, the stuff's gone!"
In snug corners, among the rocks, the great spurge of our district, the characias of the Greeks, the jusclo of the Provencals, begins to lift its drooping inflorescence and discreetly opens a few sombre flowers. Here the first Midges of the year will come to slake their thirst. By the time that the tip of the stalks reaches the perpendicular, the worst of the cold weather will be over.
"You'd better soothe him down I want to know what he's got to tell." "It's all right, Spurge," said Copplestone. "Come Mr. Vickers is on our side this time; he's one of us. You can say anything you like before him or Mr. Gilling either. We're all in it. Pull your chair up here, alongside of me, and tell us what you've been doing." "Well, of course, if you puts it that way, Mr.
For some hours I had been walking chiefly over the stony causse, searching for a so-called castle that was not worth the trouble of finding. I had seen spurge and juniper, and ribs of rock rising everywhere above the short turf, until I grew weary of the sameness.
And so, after reckoning things up, I made for a spot as Mr. Vickers there'll know by name of the Reaver's Glen." "Good place, too, for hiding," remarked Vickers with a nod. "Best place on this coast seashore and inland," said Spurge. "And as you two London gentlemen doesn't know it, I'll tell you about it.
"That's it guv'nor," muttered Spurge, nudging Copplestone. "That's the ticket! Struck down from behind that's what happened to him. Unawares, so to speak, I can reckon of it up easy. They comes in the darkness after I'd left him here. He hears of 'em, as he says, a-moving about. Then he no doubt starts moving about watching 'em, as far as he can see.
You mayn't see me at first, but, let the lawyer from London call my name out, and Zachary Spurge'll step forward." There was abundant cover for Zachary Spurge and for half-a-dozen like him in the village school-house when the inquest was opened at ten-o'clock that morning.
His black socks and his flesh bulging over the garters, attached high up on his legs, were plainly visible. The chasuble had the shape of an ordinary chasuble but was of the dark red colour of dried blood, and in the middle, in a triangle around which was an embroidered border of colchicum, savin, sorrel, and spurge, was the figure of a black billy-goat presenting his horns.
But we'll soon see." Clambering up a pile of fallen timber which lay in the passage and beckoning Copplestone to follow his example, Spurge looked through a broken slat in the wooden partition into an open shed which fronted the Cut. The shed was empty.
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