"Why, Sey, he spies out everything. Would you believe it, when I had
that confidential interview with Brookfield the other day, about the
new issue of Golcondas, the man was under the easy-chair, though I
searched the room beforehand to make sure he wasn't there; and he
came to me afterwards with full notes of the conversation, to assure
me he thought Brookfield--whom I've known for ten years--was too
tall by half an inch to be one of Colonel Clay's impersonations."
"Oh, but, Sir Charles," Medhurst cried, emerging suddenly from the
bookcase, "you must never look upon _any one_ as above suspicion
merely because you've known him for ten years or thereabouts.
Colonel Clay may have approached you at various times under many
disguises. He may have built up this thing gradually. Besides, as to
my knowing too much, why, of course, a detective always learns many
things about his employer's family which he is not supposed to know;
but professional honour and professional etiquette, as with doctors
and lawyers, compel him to lock them up as absolute secrets in his
own bosom. You need never be afraid I will divulge one jot of them.
If I did, my occupation would be gone, and my reputation shattered."
Charles looked at him, appalled. "Do you dare to say," he burst out,
"you've been listening to my talk with my brother-in-law and
secretary?"
"Why, of course," Medhurst answered.
Pages:
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166