Cleek, Hamilton (Fictitious character) -- Fiction; Detective and mystery stories; Police -- Great Britain -- Fiction
"It is so _difficile_. I am trying to remember, and the matter seemed
then so trivial! But there is no reason to doubt my uncle, Mr. Headland,
for he loves Nigel dearly, and if there was any way in which he could
help to unravel this so terrible plot against him--Oh! I am _sure_ he
must have told me so, _sure_! There would be no point in his telling an
untruth over that."
"And yet you can not recall the actual remark that your uncle made, Miss
Brellier?"
"No. But I am sure, sure that what he said was true."
Cleek shrugged his shoulders.
"Then, of course, you must know best. Well, we must try and find some
other loophole. I promised Merriton I'd speak a few words to you, Miss
Brellier, just to tell you to keep up heart--though it's a difficult
task. But everything that can be done, _will_ be done. And--if you should
happen to hear that I have thrown up the case, and gone back to London,
don't be a bit surprised. There are other ways, other means of helping
than the average person dreams of. Don't mention anything I have said to
you to _anybody_. Keep you own counsel, please, and as a token of my
regard for that I will give you my word that everything that _can_ be
done for Merriton will be. Good-bye."
He put out his hand and she laid her slim one in it. For a moment her
eyes measured him, scanning his face as though to trace therein anything
of treachery to the cause which she held so dear. Then her face broke
into a wintry smile.
"I have a feeling, Mr. Headland," she said softly, "that you are going
to be a good friend to us, Nigel and me. It is a woman's intuition that
tells me, and it helps me to bear the too dreadful suspense under which
we are all now labouring. You have my word of honour never to speak of
this talk together, and to keep a guard on my tongue for the future, if
it is to help Nigel. You will let me know how things go on, Mr.
Headland?"
"That I cannot for the present tell. It will depend entirely upon how
events shape themselves, Miss Brellier. You may hear soon--you may not
hear at all. But I believe in his innocence as deeply as you do.
Therefore you must be content that I shall do my best, _whatever_
happens. Good-bye."
He gave her fingers a soft squeeze, held them a moment and then, dropping
them, bowed and swung upon his heel to join Mr. Narkom, who was standing
near by, the last of the group of interested spectators of that
afternoon's ghastly business. Dollops stood a little back from them,
awaiting his orders.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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