Then he took off the Trilby hat, which he had resumed after the coffin had passed, and he rubbed his head as men do when they are exceedingly bewildered or puzzled. After which he unobtrusively followed the procession, hovered about its fringes around the grave until the last rites were over, and eventually edged himself up to Selwood as the gathering was dispersing. He quietly touched Selwood’s sleeve.
“Mr. Selwood!” he whispered. “Just a word. I know a lot of these gentlemen—the M.P.’s and so on—but there are some I don’t know. Will you oblige me, now?—I want to get a full list. Who are the two elderly gentlemen with Mr. Barthorpe Herapath—relatives, eh?”
“No—old personal friends,” answered Selwood, good-naturedly turning aside with the little reporter. “One is Mr. Tertius—Mr. J. C. Tertius—a very old friend of the late Mr. Herapath’s; the other is Mr. Benjamin Halfpenny, the solicitor, also an old friend.”
“Oh, I know of his firm,” said Triffitt, busily scribbling. “Halfpenny and Farthing, of course—odd combination, isn’t it? And that burly gentleman behind them, now—who’s he?”
“That’s Professor Cox-Raythwaite, the famous scientist,” answered Selwood. “He’s also an old friend. The gentleman he’s speaking to is Sir Cornelius Debenham, chairman of the World Alliance Association, with which Mr. Herapath was connected, you know.”
“I know—I know,” answered Triffitt, still busy. “Those two behind him, now—middle-aged parties?”
“One’s Mr. Frankton, the manager, and the other’s Mr. Charlwood, the cashier, at the estate office,” replied Selwood.
“They’ll go down in staff and employees,” said Triffitt. “Um—I’ve got a good list. By the by, who’s the gentleman across there—just going up to the grave—the gentleman who looks like an actor? Is he an actor?”
“That? Oh!” answered Selwood. “No—that’s Mr. Frank Burchill, who used to be Mr. Herapath’s secretary—my predecessor.”
“Oh!” responded Triffitt. He had caught sight of Carver a few yards off, and he hurried his notebook into his pocket, and bustled off. “Much obliged to you, Mr. Selwood,” he said with a grin. “Even we with all our experience, don’t know everybody, you know—many thanks.” He hastened over to Carver who was also busy pencilling, and drew him away into the shelter of a particularly large and ugly monument. “I say!” he whispered. “Here’s something! Shove that book away now—I’ve got all the names—and attend to me a minute. Don’t look too obtrusively—but do you see that chap—looks like an actor—who is just coming away from the graveside—tall, well-dressed chap?”