But first--help!"
"How are we to get that?" asked Copplestone, eagerly.
"I'll go it," replied Spurge. "I know a man just aback of here that'll
run up to the town with a message--chap that can be trusted, sure and
faithful. 'Bide here five minutes, sir--I'll send a message to Mr.
Vickers--this chap'll know him and'll find him. He can come down with the
rest--and the police, too, if he likes. Keep your eyes skinned, guv'nor."
He twisted away like an eel into the crowd of workers and idlers, and
left Copplestone at the entrance to the alley, watching. And he had not
been so left more than a couple of minutes when a woman slipped past the
mouth of the alley, swiftly, quietly, looking neither to right nor left,
of whose veiled head and face he caught one glance. And in that glance he
recognized her--Addie Chatfield!
But in the moment of that glance Copplestone also recognized something
vastly more important. Here was the explanation of the mystery of the
early-morning doings at the old tower. The footprints of a woman who wore
fashionable and elegant boots? Addie Chatfield, of course! Was she not
old Peter's daughter, a chip of the old block, even though a feminine
chip? And did not he and Gilling know that she had been mixed up with
Peter at the Bristol affair? Great Scott!--why, of course. Addie was an
accomplice in all these things!
If Copplestone had the least shadow of doubt remaining in his mind as to
this conclusion, it was utterly dissipated when, peering cautiously round
the corner of his hiding-place, he saw Addie disappear within the old
sail-loft into which Andrius had betaken himself.
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