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Updated: June 9, 2025
It was the jeweller I had spoken to in Bond Street the man I had taken for the manager, but who was none other than Mr. Gilling himself! I saw that all was lost. In a few moments he would come face to face with Bindo! In an instant, however, I had made up my mind, and, re-entering the house, I made my way quickly through into the large hall.
You'd better turn all your attention to that, Gilling you and Swallow. As for Chatfield and his daughter, I suppose we shall have to approach the police." Copplestone presently went home to his rooms in Jermyn Street, puzzled and wondering; And there, lying on top of a pile of letters, he found a telegram from Audrey Greyle.
And then all four turned to Gilling as to an expert in these matters. "Queer!" observed Gilling. "Decidedly queer! There may be some explanation, you know: I've known stranger things than that turn out to be perfectly straight and plain when they were gone into. But putting all the facts together I don't think there's much doubt that there's something considerably wrong in this case.
"Of course!" he said, cynically. "Just so! I expected something of that sort. That's all part of a clever scheme." "I don't understand you," remarked Copplestone. "How a clever scheme?" "Whitewash!" answered Gilling. "Sheer whitewash! You don't suppose that either Greyle or Chatfield are fools? I should say they're far from it, from what little I've heard of 'em.
But Gilling now free of his clerical attire and presenting himself as a smart young man of the professional classes type was quick to explain that system, accurate and definite system, would expedite matters. "We know the approximate date on which the Araconda would touch here," he said as they breakfasted together.
"It strikes me it's going to be a big one, too. And it's coming to a point round Squire Greyle." "Do you think your man will have tracked him?" asked Copplestone. "It will be the first time Swallow's ever lost sight of anybody if he hasn't," answered Gilling. "He's a human ferret! However, I wired to him just before we left, telling him to meet me at King's Cross, so we'll get his report.
"Take care that he doesn't collar it yet," said Mrs. Greyle with a laugh as she went into her own room. "Chatfield is resourceful enough for anything. And take care of yourselves!" That was the second admonition to be careful, and Copplestone thought of both, as, an hour later, he, Gilling, Vickers and Spurge sped along the desolate, wind-swept moorland on their way to the Reaver's Glen.
"That's about it, sir," answered the door-keeper. He had taken down a sort of ledger as the manager spoke, and was now turning over its leaves. He suddenly ran his finger down a page and stopped its course at a particular line. "Mrs. Salmon, 5, Montargis Crescent second to the right outside," he announced briefly. "Very good lodgings, too, are those." Gilling promised Mr.
And the next thing, now that we know Marston Greyle lies behind us there, is to get back to town and catch the chap who took his place. We'll wire to Swallow and to Petherton and get the next express." Sir Cresswell Oliver and Petherton were in conference with Swallow at the solicitor's office when Gilling and Copplestone arrived there in the early afternoon.
Then Spurge ran off to summon you. While he was away Miss Chatfield appeared " "Addie Chatfield!" exclaimed Vickers. "Exactly. And that of course," continued Copplestone, glancing at Gilling, "that without doubt in my opinion, anyway explains those elegant footprints up at the tower. Addie Chatfield, I tell you!
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