Of course,
Chatfield had squared that jury! But he forgot the press--and the local
reporters were so glad to get hold of what was really spicy news that all
the Norcaster and Northborough papers have been full of it. Everybody's
talking of it, as I said--people are asking what this evidence from
America is; why was there such mystery about the whole thing, and so on.
And, since then, everybody knows that Squire Greyle has left Scarhaven."
"Have you seen Mrs. or Miss Greyle since the inquest?" asked Copplestone,
who was anxious to keep off subjects on which he might be supposed to
possess information. "Have you been over there?"
"No--not since that day," replied Vickers. "And I don't care how soon we
do see them, for I'm a bit anxious about this telegram. Something must
have happened."
Copplestone looked out of the window on his side of the car. Already they
were clear of the Norcaster streets and on the road which led to
Scarhaven. That road ran all along the coast, often at the very edge of
the high, precipitous cliffs, with no more between it and the rocks far
beneath than a low wall. It was a road of dangerous curves and corners
which needed careful negotiation even in broad daylight, and this was a
black, moonless and starless night. But Copplestone had impressed upon
his driver that he must get to Scarhaven as quickly as possible, and he
and his companion were both so full of their purpose that they paid no
heed to the perpetual danger which they ran as the car tore round
propections and down deep cuts at a speed which at other times they would
have considered suicidal.
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