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Updated: June 20, 2025
"I shouldn't be much use in my trade if I didn't keep cool, Mr. Triffitt," answered Davidge. "You see, I know a bit perhaps a good deal of what's going on or what's going to go on, presently. So will you. I'll take you in there." "There? Where?" demanded Triffitt. "Where he's gone," said Davidge. "Where if I'm not mistaken that chap's going."
Sit you down and read your book and smoke your pipe and drink your drop and maybe we'll have something to tell you when our job's through." "You've no fear of interruption?" asked Triffitt, who would vastly have preferred action to inaction. "Supposing you know how things do and will turn out sometimes supposing he came back?" Davidge shook his head and smiled grimly and knowingly. "No," he said.
Carver, who had been listening intently to the memory of a bygone event, pushed away the remains of his frugal lunch, and shook his head as he drew out a cigarette-case. "By gad, Triff, old man!" he said. "If I'd been that chap I'd rather have been hanged, I think. Not proven, eh? whew! That meant " "Pretty much what the folk in court and the mob outside thought," asserted Triffitt.
Ever since Triffitt had made his lucky scoop in connection with the Herapath Mystery he had lived in a state of temporary glory, with strong hopes of making it a permanent one. As he was fond of remarking, he never got a chance.
"In the dock?" he exclaimed. "That chap? Good heavens! When where?" "It's a longish story," answered Triffitt. "But you've got to hear it if we're going into this thing as we are. Know, then, that I have an aunt Eliza.
Arrived at the Argus office and duly seated at his own particular table, Triffitt, instead of proceeding to write out his report of the funeral ceremony of the late Jacob Herapath, M.P., wrote a note to his proprietor, which note he carefully sealed and marked "Private." He carried this off to the great man's confidential secretary, who stared at it and him.
Within half an hour Triffitt was occupant of the flat, the cashier of the Argus having duly telephoned that he was a thoroughly dependable and much-respected member of its staff, and Triffitt himself having handed over ten pounds as rent for the coming month, he interviewed the caretaker's wife, went to a neighbouring grocer's shop and ordered a stock of necessaries wherewith to fill his larder, repaired to his own lodgings and brought away all that he wanted in the way of luggage, books, and papers, and by the middle of the afternoon was fairly settled in his new quarters.
At the entrance to that restaurant there was a bar, whereat it was possible to get a drink. There were two or three men, so occupied, standing at this bar at that moment Carver, leisurely turning to inspect them, suddenly started as violently as Triffitt had started a moment before. "Good heavens!" he muttered. "Burchill!" "Quiet!" commanded Triffitt. "Quiet, all of you. By Gad! this is "
She was found one night lying at the foot of the cliff in the Kelpies' Glen with a broken neck." "Ah!" said Carver. "I begin to see." "Now, that Kelpies' Glen," continued Triffitt, "was a sort of ravine which lay between the town of Jedburgh and the school. It was traversed by a rough path which lay along the top of one side of it, amongst trees and crags.
As it was, nothing was likely to arise which would titillate the public until Barthorpe Herapath, now safely lodged in the remand prison, was brought to trial, or unless Burchill was arrested. Consequently, Triffitt was not expected to make up a half or a whole column of recent and sensational Herapath news every morning. And so he gladly took this Sunday for a return to the primrose paths.
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