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Updated: June 9, 2025
You stand in with us, Ewart. Your share of the Gilling affair is to your credit, and you'll have it before long. At present, we have another little matter in hand one which requires extremely delicate handling, but will be successful providing Mademoiselle Gabrielle doesn't change her mind. But women are so often fickle, and the morning brings prudence far too frequently.
"That's where it was placed by Chatfield, according to Zachary Spurge." "And of course Chatfield's removed it during the night," remarked Gilling. "That message which Sir Cresswell read us must have been all wrong the Pike's come south and she's been somewhere about maybe been in that cove at the end of the glen though she'll have cleared out of it hours ago!" he concluded disappointedly.
Gilling was a tall man, clad highly in the mode, and brought to a polished and powdered finish by barber and manicurist; but his colour was peculiar, being almost unhumanly florid, and, as Mrs. Schofield afterward claimed to have noticed, his eyes "wore a nervous, apprehensive look", his hands were tremulous, and his manner was "queer and jerky" at least, that is how she defined it.
Greyle would be able to rest for a long time at a stretch. But I formed my own conclusions." "And they were what?" asked Gilling. "That he would not live long," said the doctor. "Finding that he was going to the neighbourhood of Norcaster, where there is a most excellent school of medicine, I advised him to get the best specialist he could from there, and to put himself under his treatment.
Greyle drove straight to the Fragonard Club you know." "Ah!" exclaimed Gilling. "Did he, now? That's worth knowing." "What's the Fragonard Club?" asked Copplestone. "Never heard of it." "Club of folk connected with the stage and the music-halls," answered Gilling, testily. "In a side street, off Shaftesbury Avenue tell you more of it, later. Go on, Swallow."
Then, instead of remaining there, becoming indignant, and assisting the police, we were compelled to fly, thus giving the whole game away. If we had stayed, Gilling would have recognised us. By Jove! I never had such a tough quarter of an hour in all my life. Blythe has gone up to Scotland, and we shall ship the car across to Hamburg by to-night's boat from Parkeston.
"Then in that case," he said dryly, "all the lawyers in the world can't help. It's his absolutely and he can do what he pleases with it. Five hundred years, you say? Remarkable! that a man should want to sell land his forefathers have walked over for half a thousand years! Extraordinary!" "Did Lord Altmore say if any reason had been given him as to why Mr. Greyle wished to sell?" asked Gilling.
It was late that night when Copplestone and Gilling arrived at this far-off Cornish seaport, and nothing could be done until the following morning. To Copplestone it seemed as if they were in for a difficult task.
And beyond that stretched the wide expanse of sea, with here and there a red-sailed fishing boat tossing restlessly on the white-capped waves, and over that and the land was a chill silence, broken only by the occasional cry of the sea-birds and the bleating of the mountain sheep. "A lone spot indeed!" said Gilling in a whisper. "Spurge, where is that stuff hidden?"
"You think there's no doubt that gold was removed this morning by Chatfield's daughter?" he said to Copplestone as they went back to the centre of the town together, Gilling and Vickers having turned aside elsewhere and Spurge gone to the hospital to ask for news of his cousin. "You think she was the woman whose footprints you saw up there at the Beaver's Glen?"
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