“Look here, Gurney,” he said. “Come over and sit on this seat. I have something important to say to you.” He paused as if considering his words. “You thought a good deal of your employers, those two poor men who were lost on the moor?”
“An’ I had reason to. It wasn’t an accident ’appening in the execution of my dooty, as you might say, as made me lame and not fit to work. It was rheumatism, and they could ’ave let me go when I couldn’t work no more. But they found this job for me and they let me the ’ouse cheap. Of course it was Mr. Berlyn as ’ad the final say, but I know as Mr. Pyke spoke for me. It wasn’t everyone as would ’ave done that, now was it, sir?”
Consideration on the part of an employer was not, French knew, to be taken as a matter of course, though it was vastly more common than the unions would have the public believe. But gratitude on the part of an employee was not so frequent, though it was by no means unique. Its exhibition, however, in the present instance confirmed French in the course he was taking.
“Now, Gurney, do you know who I am?” he went on. “I’m an inspector from Scotland Yard and I’m down here to try to solve these two mysteries. Because, Gurney, do you know what I think? I think that on that night the body of one of these two gentlemen was taken to the works and put into the crate.”
Gurney started and paled. “Lord save us!” he muttered. “But wot about the accident?”
“There was no accident,” French replied, sternly. “There was murder. Who committed it, I don’t know at present. Where the other body is, if there is another body, I don’t yet know. But I have no doubt about one of the bodies. It was put into the crate on that night.”
Gurney moistened his dry lips.
“But——” he began, and his voice died away into silence.
“That’s it,” French went on, impressively. “Now, Gurney, I’m not accusing you of anything. But you know something. You needn’t attempt to deny it, because it has been plain to me from the first moment I spoke to you. Come now. Something out of the common took place that night. What was it?”
Gurney did not deny the charge. Instead he sat motionless, with scared, unhappy eyes. French remained silent also; then he said, quietly: