Part 7 (2/2)

”Everybody's reading it out there in the streets,” he said. ”It's extraordinary, now, how these affairs seem to fascinate people.

Yes--it's all there. That is, of course, as far as it's gone.”

”How did the paper people come to know all this?” asked Peggie, glancing rapidly over Triffitt's leaded lines.

”I suppose they got it from the police,” replied Mr. Tertius. ”I don't know much about such matters, but I believe the police and the Press are in constant touch. Of course, it's well they should be--it attracts public notice. And in cases like this, public notice is an excellent thing. We shall have to hear--and find out--a good deal before we get at the truth in this case, my dear.”

Peggie suddenly flung down the newspaper and looked inquiringly at the old man.

”Mr. Tertius,” she said abruptly, ”why wouldn't Barthorpe let you come into that room down there at the office this morning?”

Mr. Tertius did not answer this direct question at once. He walked away to the window and stood looking out into the square for a while. When at last he spoke his voice was singularly even and colourless. He might have been discussing a question on which it was impossible to feel any emotion.

”I really cannot positively say, my dear,” he replied. ”I have known, of course, for some time that Mr. Barthorpe Herapath is not well disposed towards me. I have observed a certain coldness, a contempt, on his part.

I have been aware that he has resented my presence in this house. And I suppose he felt that as I am not a member of the family, I had no right to sit in council with him and with you.”

”Not a member of the family!” exclaimed Peggie. ”Why, you came here soon after I came--all those years ago!”

”I have dwelt under Jacob Herapath's roof, in this house, fifteen years,” said Mr. Tertius, reflectively. ”Fifteen years!--yes. Yes--Jacob and I were--good friends.”

As he spoke the last word a tear trickled from beneath Mr. Tertius's spectacles and ran down into his beard, and Peggie, catching sight of it, impulsively jumped from her seat and kissed him affectionately.

”Never mind, Mr. Tertius!” she said, patting his shoulders. ”You and I are friends, too, anyway. I don't like Barthorpe when he's like that--I hate that side of him. And anyhow, Barthorpe doesn't matter--to me. I don't suppose he matters to anything--except himself.”

Mr. Tertius gravely shook his head.

”Mr. Barthorpe Herapath may matter a great deal, my dear,” he remarked.

”He is a very forceful person. I do not know what provision my poor friend may have made, but Barthorpe, you will remember, is his nephew, and, I believe, his only male relative. And in that case----”

Mr. Tertius was just then interrupted by the entrance of a footman who came in and looked inquiringly at Peggie.

”There's a taxi-cab driver at the door, miss,” he announced. ”He says he would like to speak to some one about the news in the paper about--about the master, miss.”

Peggie looked at Mr. Tertius. And Mr. Tertius quickly made a sign to the footman.

”Bring the man in at once,” he commanded. And, as if to lose no time, he followed the footman into the hall, and at once returned, conducting a young man who carried a copy of the _Argus_ in his hand. ”Yes?” he said, closing the door behind them and motioning the man to a seat. ”You wish to tell us something! This lady is Miss Wynne--Mr. Herapath's niece. You can tell us anything you think of importance. Do you know anything, then?”

The taxi-cab driver lifted the _Argus_.

”This here newspaper, sir,” he answered. ”I've just been reading of it--about Mr. Herapath, sir.”

”Yes,” said Mr. Tertius gently. ”Yes?”

”Well, sir--strikes me as how I drove him, sir, this morning,” answered the driver. ”Gentleman of his appearance, anyway, sir--that's a fact!”

Mr. Tertius glanced at Peggie, who was intently watching the caller.

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