The place--the time--mere lonely situation--that scrap
iron lying about, which would be so useful in weighting a dead body!--I
tell you, I shall be surprised if we don't find Parrawhite at the bottom
of that water!"
"I shouldn't wonder," agreed Prydale. "One thing's very certain, as we
shall prove before we're through with it--Pratt's put that poor devil
Murgatroyd up to this passage-to-America business. And a bit clumsily,
too--fancy Murgatroyd being no better posted up than to tell me that
Parrawhite called on him at a certain hour that night!"
"But you've got to remember that Pratt didn't know of Parrawhite's
affairs with Pickard, nor that he was at the _Green Man_ at that hour,"
rejoined Byner. "My belief is that Pratt thinks himself safe--that he
fancies he's provided for all contingencies. If things turn out as I
think they will, I believe we shall find Pratt calmly seated at his desk
tomorrow morning."
"Well--if things do turn out as you expect, we'll lose no time in
seeking him there!" observed Prydale dryly. "We'd better arrange to get
the job done first thing."
"This Mr. Shepherd'll make no objection, I suppose?" asked Byner.
"Objection! Lor' bless you--he'll love it!" exclaimed Prydale. "It'll be
a bit of welcome diversion to a man like him that's naught to do. He'll
object none, not he!"
Shepherd, a retired quarry-owner, who lived in a picturesque old stone
house in the middle of Whitcliffe Moor, with nothing to occupy his
attention but the growing of roses and vegetables, and an occasional
glance at the local newspapers, listened to Prydale's request with
gradually rising curiosity.
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