He's not to be lost sight of until this mystery is
cleared. Because--something is wrong."
Copplestone considered matters in silence for a few moments, and decided
not to reveal the story of Zachary Spurge to Gilling--yet awhile at any
rate. However, he had news which there was no harm in communicating.
"Marston Greyle," he said, presently, "or his agent, Peter Chatfield, or
both, in common agreement, are already doing something to solve the
mystery--so far as Greyle's property is concerned. They've closed the
Keep and its surrounding ruins to the people who used to be permitted to
go in, and they're conducting an exhaustive search--for Bassett Oliver,
of course."
Gilling made a grimace.
"Of course!" he said, cynically. "Just so! I expected something of that
sort. That's all part of a clever scheme."
"I don't understand you," remarked Copplestone. "How--a clever scheme?"
"Whitewash!" answered Gilling. "Sheer whitewash! You don't suppose that
either Greyle or Chatfield are fools?--I should say they're far from it,
from what little I've heard of 'em. Well--don't they know very well that
Marston Greyle is under suspicion? All right--they want to clear him. So
they close their ruins and make a search--a private search, mind you--and
at the end they announce that nothing's been found--and there you are!
And--supposing they did find something--supposing they found Bassett
Oliver's body--What is it?" he asked suddenly, seeing Copplestone staring
hard across the sands at the opposite quay.
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