he spoke of—as far as they could make out—was the copper box, coupled with the family name. Mr. Craye, I think he hid that will in the copper box, and that Mr. Parslewe now has it in his pocket!"
It seemed a probable suggestion, and I nodded my assent.
"I suppose we shall hear," I said.
Pawley picked up his suit-case.
"I must go to my train," he said. "Hear? Yes—and see, too, Mr. Craye! I think you'll hear and see some queer things within this next day or two, if you're remaining in Mr. Parslewe's company. But, I'll say this—Mr. Parslewe, though unmistakably a queer, a very queer, eccentric gentleman, is a straight 'un, and whatever he got from Bickerdale, it's safe with him. Otherwise I shouldn't be going south. And, as I say, if you're stopping with Mr. Parslewe, I think you'll have some entertainment. Better than a tale, I call it!"
He said good morning at that, and went off to his train, and after buying a morning newspaper, I turned into the hotel and went up to the private sitting-room. And then, presently, came Madrasia.
