At last he
leaned forward.
"Sir!" he whispered in a confidential tone. "Do you consider this here a
matter of murder?"
CHAPTER V
THE GREYLE HISTORY
If Copplestone had followed his first natural impulse, he would have
laughed aloud at this solemnly propounded question: as it was, he found
it difficult to content himself with a smile.
"Isn't it a little early to arrive at any conclusion, of any sort, Mr.
Chatfield?" he asked. "You haven't made up your own mind, surely?"
Chatfield pursed up his long thin lips and shook his head, continuing to
stare fixedly at Copplestone.
"Now I may have, and I may not have, mister," he said at last, suddenly
relaxing. "What I was asking of was--what might you consider?"
"I don't consider at all--yet," answered Copplestone. "It's too soon. Let
me offer you a glass of claret."
"Many thanks to you, sir, but it's too cold for my stomach," responded
the visitor. "A drop of gin, now, is more in my line, since you're so
kind. Ah, well, in any case, sir, this here is a very unfortunate affair.
I'm a deal upset by it--I am indeed!"
Copplestone rang the bell, gave orders for Mr. Chatfield's suitable
entertainment with gin and cigars, and making an end of his dinner, drew
up a chair to the fire opposite his visitor.
"You are upset, Mr. Chatfield?" he remarked. "Now, why?"
Chatfield sipped his gin and water, and flourished a cigar with a
comprehensive wave of his big fat hand.
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