Copplestone glanced at the card and read "Sir Cresswell Oliver," He
turned wonderingly to his companion, who laughed again.
"Sir Cresswell told me to give you that as soon as I conveniently could,"
he said. "The fact is, I'm not a clergyman at all--not I! I'm a private
detective, sent down here by him and Petherton. See?"
Copplestone stared for a moment at the wide-brimmed hat, the round
collar, the eminently clerical countenance. Then he burst into laughter.
"I congratulate you on your make-up, anyway!" he exclaimed. "Capital!"
"Oh, I've been on the stage in my time," responded the private detective.
"I'm a good hand at fitting myself to various parts; besides I've played
the conventional curate a score of times. Yes, I don't think anybody
would see through me, and I'm very particular to avoid the clergy."
"And you left the stage--for this?" asked Copplestone. "Why, now?"
"Pays better--heaps better," replied the other calmly. "Also, it's more
exciting--there's much more variety in it. Well, now you know who I
am--my name, by-the-bye is Gilling, though I'm not the Reverend Gilling,
as Mrs. Wooler will call me. And so--as I've made things plain--how's
this matter going so far?"
Copplestone shook his head.
"My orders," he said, with a significant look, "are--to say nothing
to any one."
"Except to me," responded Gilling.
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