“As Mr. Murthwaite is Mr. Parslewe’s solicitor,” said I, “I should show him those wires. They are the best answer to his question.”
“Yes!” agreed Madrasia. She snatched up the telegrams, and put them in Murthwaite’s hand; we both watched him intently while he read. “There!” she said, as he folded them again. “What do you think?”
“I think that Parslewe is a very strange man!” replied Murthwaite. “I think, too, that I must have a talk to you—both—about him. Now, as the tea is there, and you are so hospitable——”
We gathered round the table, and Madrasia began to busy herself with the teapot and the cups. It was useless to attempt the talking of nothings; we were all full of the occasion of Murthwaite’s visit, and he was acute enough not to keep Madrasia and myself waiting for his news.
“I’ll tell you, briefly, what brought me here,” he said, after his first cup. “To-day, about noon, I had a visit from a Sir Charles Sperrigoe, who, after introducing himself as a fellow solicitor from a distant part of the country, told me that he had just ascertained in the town that I was solicitor to Mr. James Parslewe of Kelpieshaw; that he had been out to Kelpieshaw to find Mr. Parslewe, had failed to find him, and so had come to me. He then told me a very wonderful tale, which I am quite at liberty to tell you, and will tell to you presently. But first, I want to hear from Mr. Craye a story which I think he can tell about Newcastle. Sir Charles is under the impression that Mr. Craye told something to Mr. Parslewe last night which sent him off on his travels. I should like to hear that story, and then I’ll tell you what Sir Charles Sperrigoe told me, under persuasion.”
“I’d better tell you the plain facts about the whole affair, from the coming here of a man named Pawley until your own arrival just now,” said I. “You’ll then have the entire history of the matter before you, as far as I know it. It’s this——”
He listened carefully, sipping his tea and munching his toast, while I told him everything. Now and then Madrasia corrected or prompted me a little; between us we gave him all the salient facts and details, down to the visit of Weech and the receipt of the last telegram; Madrasia had the last word.
“And then you came, Mr. Murthwaite! And if you can tell us what it all means, we’ll bless you!” she said. “Can you?”
But Murthwaite shook his head, decidedly.
“I can’t!” he answered. “Even now it’s as much a mystery to me as ever, though I think I see a little gleam of light—a very, very little one. No, I can only tell you what Sperrigoe told me this morning. If I may have another cup of your very excellent tea, and a cigarette with it——”