"There's no doubt whatever that Oliver fell from the parapet," said
Copplestone. "The marks of a fall are there--quite unmistakably."
Greyle nodded, but made no remark, and the two made their way through
the still eager crowd and went down to the village post-office. Both were
wondering, as they went, about the same thing--the evident anxiety and
mental uneasiness of Marston Greyle.
CHAPTER XII
GOOD MEN AND TRUE
Copplestone saw little of his bed that night. At seven o'clock in the
evening came a telegram from Sir Cresswell Oliver, saying that he and
Petherton were leaving at once, would reach Norcaster soon after
midnight, and would motor out to Scarhaven immediately on arrival.
Copplestone made all arrangements for their reception, and after
snatching a couple of hours' sleep was up to receive them. By two o'clock
in the morning Sir Cresswell and the old solicitor and Gilling--smuggled
into their sitting-room--had heard all he had to tell about Zachary
Spurge and his story.
"We must have that fellow at the inquest," said Petherton. "At any cost
we must have him! That's flat!"
"You think it wise?" asked Sir Cresswell. "Won't it be a bit previous?
Wouldn't it be better to wait until we know more?"
"No--we must have his evidence," declared Petherton. "It will serve as an
opening. Besides, this inquest will have to be adjourned--I shall ask for
that.
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