Scarhaven Keep J. S. Fletcher (early reader chapter books TXT) đ
- Author: J. S. Fletcher
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âYou didnât see anything of him yesterday, here?â suggested Copplestone.
Addie stared and glanced at the landlady.
âHere?â she exclaimed. âGoodness, no! When Iâm here of a Sunday, I lie in bed all day, or most of it. Otherwise, Iâd have to walk with my parent to the family pew. Noâ âmy Sundays are days of rest! You really think this disappearance is serious?â
âOliverâs managersâ âwho know him best, of courseâ âthink it most serious,â replied Copplestone. âThey say that nothing but an accident of a really serious nature would have kept him from his engagements.â
âThen that settles it!â said Addie. âHeâs fallen down the Devilâs Spout. Plain as plain can be, that! Heâs made his way there, been a bit too daring, and slipped over the edge. And whoever falls in there never comes out again!â âisnât that it, Mrs. Wooler?â
âThatâs what they say,â answered the landlady.
âBut I donât remember any accident at the Devilâs Spout in my time.â
âWell, thereâs been one now, anywayâ âthatâs flat,â remarked Addie. âPoor old Bassettâ âIâm sorry for him! Well, Iâm off. Good night, Mr. Copplestoneâ âand perhaps youâll so far overcome your repugnance to the theatre as to come and see me in one some day?â
âSupposing I escort you homeward insteadâ ânow?â suggested Copplestone. âThat will at least show that I am ready to become your devotedâ ââ
âAdmirer, I suppose,â said Addie. âIâm afraid heâs not quite as innocent as he looks, Mrs. Wooler. Wellâ âyou can escort me as far as the gates of the park, thenâ âI darenât take you further, because itâs so dark in there that youâd surely lose your way, and then thereâd be a second disappearance and all sorts of complications.â
She went out of the inn, laughing and chattering, but once outside she suddenly became serious, and she involuntarily laid her hand on Copplestoneâs arm as they turned down the hillside towards the quay.
âI say!â she said in a low voice. âI wasnât going to ask questions in there, butâ âwhatâs going to be done about this Oliver affair? Of course youâre stopping here to do something. What?â
Copplestone hesitated before answering this direct question. He had not seen anything which would lead him to suppose that Miss Adela Chatfield was a disingenuous and designing young woman, but she was certainly Peeping Peterâs daughter, and the old man, having failed to get anything out of Copplestone himself, might possibly have sent her to see what she could accomplish. He replied noncommittally.
âIâm not in a position to do anything,â he said. âIâm not a relativeâ ânot even a personal friend. I daresay you know that Bassett Oliver wasâ âoneâs already talking of him in the past tense!â âthe brother of Rear Admiral Sir Cresswell Oliver, the famous seaman?â
âI knew he was a man of what they call family, but I didnât know that,â she answered. âWhat of it?â
âStaffordâs wired to Sir Cresswell,â replied Copplestone. âHeâll be down here some time tomorrow, no doubt. And of course heâll take everything into his own hands.â
âAnd heâll doâ âwhat?â she asked.
âOh, I donât know,â replied Copplestone. âSet the police to work, I should think. Theyâll want to find out where Bassett Oliver went, where he got to, when he turned up to the Keep, saying heâd go and call on the Squire, as heâd met some man of that name in America. By the by, you said youâd been in America. Did you meet anybody of the Squireâs name there?â
They were passing along the quay by that time, and in the light of one of its feeble gas lamps he turned and looked narrowly at his companion. He fancied that he saw her face change in expression at his question; if there was any change, however, it was so quick that it was gone in a second. She shook her head with emphatic decision.
âI?â she exclaimed. âNever! Itâs a most uncommon name, that. I never heard of anybody called Greyle except at Scarhaven.â
âThe present Mr. Greyle came from America,â said Copplestone.
âI know, of course,â she answered. âBut I never met any Greyles out there. Bassett Oliver may have done, though. I know he toured in a lot of American townsâ âI only went to threeâ âNew York, Chicago, St. Louis. I suppose,â she continued, turning to Copplestone with a suggestion of confidence in her manner, âI suppose you consider it a very damning thing that Bassett Oliver should disappear, after saying what he did to Ewbank.â
It was very evident to Copplestone that whether Miss Chatfield had spoken the truth or not when she said that her father had not told her of his visit to the Admiralâs Arms, she was thoroughly conversant with all the facts relating to the Oliver mystery, and he was still doubtful as to whether she was not seeking information.
âDoes it matter at all what I think,â he answered evasively. âIâve no part in this affairâ âIâm a mere spectator. I donât know how what you refer to might be considered by people who are accustomed to size things up. They might say all that was a mere coincidence.â
âBut what do you think?â she said with feminine persistence. âCome, now, between ourselves?â
Copplestone laughed. They had come to the edge of the wooded park in which the estate agentâs house stood, and at a gate which led into it, he paused.
âBetween ourselves, then, I donât think at allâ âyet,â he answered. âI havenât sized anything up. All I should say at present is that ifâ âor as, for Iâm sure the fisherman repeated accurately what he heardâ âas Oliver said he met somebody called Marston Greyle in America, whyâ âI conclude he did. Thatâs all. Now, wonât you please let me see you through these dark woods?â
But Addie said her farewell, and left him somewhat abruptly, and he watched her until she had passed out of the circle of light from the lamp which swung over the gate. She passed on into the shadowsâ âand Copplestone, who had already memorized the chief geographical points of his new surroundings, noticed what she probably thought no stranger would noticeâ âthat instead of going towards her fatherâs house, she turned
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