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Updated: June 6, 2025
Greyle, mister, says that he has no recollection whatever of meeting this play-actor person in America he may have done and he mayn't. But he doesn't remember him, and it isn't likely he should him, an English landlord and a gentleman wouldn't be very like to remember a play-actor person that's here today and gone tomorrow! I hope I give no offence, sir maybe you're a play-actor yourself."
But we saw him. And we were afraid! Why? Because Bassett Oliver knew both of us. He'd met Martin several times, in London and in New York and, of course, he knew that Martin was no more Marston Greyle than he himself was. Well! we both shrank behind some shrubs that we were standing amongst, and we gave each other one look, and Martin went white as death.
Greyle there call Marston Greyle!" The Squire had appeared while Spurge was giving his evidence, and had heard what the poacher alleged. He entered the box very pale, angry, and disturbed, and the glances which he cast on Sir Cresswell Oliver and his party were distinctly those of displeasure. "Swear him!" commanded Petherton. "Now, Mr. Greyle "
She's a bit of a persuasive tongue, has my wife, and when she heard that these two gentlemen were thinking of going a long journey right away to the far north, it was, I believe she got 'em to go and see the doctor first, for she felt that Mr. Greyle wasn't fit for the exertion." "Did they go?" asked Gilling. "They did! I talked, myself, to the old gentleman," replied the landlord.
"Warn all concerned," answered Vickers, with a snap of the jaw which showed Copplestone that he was a man of determination. "Warn them, if necessary, that the man they have known as Marston Greyle is an impostor, and that everything they are handling belongs to Miss Greyle.
"Very good or bad for somebody," remarked Petherton, quietly. "Then until Mr. Marston Greyle comes we will call Zachary Spurge." The assemblage, jurymen included, broke into derisive laughter as Spurge suddenly appeared from the most densely packed corner of the room, and it was at once evident to Copplestone that whatever the poacher might say, no one there would attach any importance to it.
Well don't they know very well that Marston Greyle is under suspicion? All right they want to clear him. So they close their ruins and make a search a private search, mind you and at the end they announce that nothing's been found and there you are!
That's it in a plain way of speaking." "I thought it was," said Vickers dryly. "Of course! Very well you'd better come and talk to Miss Greyle. Come on now!"
"Copplestone!" said Gilling as they walked away. "That chap the real Marston Greyle is dead! That's as certain as that we're alive! And now the next thing is to find out where he died and when. And by George, that's going to be a big job!" "How are you going to set about it?" asked Copplestone. "It seems as if we were up against a blank wall, now."
He was to listen and appear not to listen. The task would be difficult and perhaps unpleasant. For he was very certain that Marston Greyle would resent his presence in the village, and that Chatfield would be suspicious of it. What reason could he, an utter stranger, have for taking up his quarters at the "Admiral's Arms?"
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