The Club of Queer Trades
"The lady was in the conspiracy, of course," said Rupert, nodding.
Major Brown turned brick-red. "I beg your pardon," he said. "I think not."
Rupert raised his eyebrows and looked at him for a moment, but said nothing. When next he spoke he asked:
"Was there anything in the pockets of the coat?"
"There was sevenpence halfpenny in coppers and a threepenny-bit," said the major, carefully; there was a cigarette-holder, a piece of string, and this letter," and he laid it on the table. It ran as follows:
"Dear Mr. Plover,—I am annoyed to hear that some delay has occurred in the arrangements re Major Brown. Please see that he is attacked as per arrangement to-morrow. The coal-cellar, of course.
Yours faithfully,
Rupert Grant was leaning forward listening with hawklike eyes. He cut in:
"Is it dated from anywhere?"
"No—oh yes!" replied Brown, glancing
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