As a rule, Spargo left the Watchman office at two o’clock. The paper had then gone to press. There was nothing for him, recently promoted to a sub-editorship, to do after he had passed the column for ...

Spargo looked up at the inspector with a quick jerk of his head. “I know this man,” he said. The inspector showed new interest. “What, Mr. Breton?” he asked. “Yes. I’m on the Watchman, you know, subed...

Having no clear conception of what had led him to these scenes of litigation, Spargo went wandering aimlessly about in the great hall and the adjacent corridors until an official, who took him to be l...

The house at which Spargo and his companions presently drew up was an old-fashioned place in the immediate vicinity of Waterloo Railway Station⁠—a plain-fronted, foursquare erection, essentially mid-V...

The barrister and the journalist, left thus unceremoniously on a crowded pavement, looked at each other. Breton laughed. “We don’t seem to have gained much information,” he remarked. “I’m about as wis...

Ronald Breton walked into the Watchman office and into Spargo’s room next morning holding a copy of the current issue in his hand. He waved it at Spargo with an enthusiasm which was almost boyish. “I ...

Spargo, keenly observant and watchful, felt, rather than saw, Breton start; he himself preserved an imperturbable equanimity. He gave a mere glance at the photograph to which Mr. Webster was pointing....

Spargo found Rathbury sitting alone in a small, somewhat dismal apartment which was chiefly remarkable for the businesslike paucity of its furnishings and its indefinable air of secrecy. There was a p...

“Buried⁠—and deep-down, too⁠—for many and many a year,” repeated Mr. Myerst, eyeing his companions with keen glances. “I consider that, gentlemen, a very remarkable remark⁠—very remarkable!” Rathbury ...

Whether Spargo was sanguine enough to expect that his staring headline would bring him information of the sort he wanted was a secret which he kept to himself. That a good many thousands of human bein...

It seemed to Spargo as he sat listening to the proceedings at the adjourned inquest next day that the whole story of what was now world-famous as the Middle Temple Murder Case was being reiterated bef...

The voice of the Coroner, bland, suave, deprecating, broke the silence. He was addressing the witness. “I am sure, Mr. Aylmore,” he said, “there is no wish to trouble you with unnecessary questions. B...

A distinct, uncontrollable murmur of surprise ran round the packed court as this man in the witness-box gave this answer. It signified many things⁠—that there were people present who had expected some...

With a sudden instinct of protection, Spargo quickly drew the girl aside from the struggling crowd, and within a moment had led her into a quiet by-street. He looked down at her as she stood recoverin...

The haunt of well-informed men which Spargo had in view when he turned out of the Watchman office lay well hidden from ordinary sight and knowledge in one of those Fleet Street courts the like of whic...

Spargo, changing his clothes, washing away the dust of his journey, in that old-fashioned lavender-scented bedroom, busied his mind in further speculations on his plan of campaign in Market Milcaster....

If Spargo had upset the old gentlemen’s bowl of punch⁠—the second of the evening⁠—or had dropped an infernal machine in their midst, he could scarcely have produced a more startling effect than that w...

As soon as Spargo unfolded the paper he saw what he wanted on the middle page, headed in two lines of big capitals. He lighted a cigar and settled down to read. “Market Milcaster Quarter Sessions “Tri...

“I perceive, sir,” said Mr. Quarterpage, as Spargo entered the library, “that you have read the account of the Maitland trial.” “Twice,” replied Spargo. “And you have come to the conclusion that⁠—but ...

This remarkable declaration awoke such a new conception of matters in Spargo’s mind, aroused such infinitely new possibilities in his imagination, that for a full moment he sat silently staring at his...

Spargo hurried out to the hall, took the two telegrams from the boots of the “Dragon,” and, tearing open the envelopes, read the messages hastily. He went back to Mr. Quarterpage. “Here’s important ne...

Jessie Aylmore came forward to meet Spargo with ready confidence; the elder girl hung back diffidently. “May we speak to you?” said Jessie. “We have come on purpose to speak to you. Evelyn didn’t want...

Next day, a little before noon, Spargo found himself in one of those pretentious yet dismal Bayswater squares, which are almost entirely given up to the trade, calling, or occupation of the lodging an...

Spargo, having exhausted the list of questions which he had thought out on his way to Bayswater, was about to take his leave of Miss Baylis, when a new idea suddenly occurred to him, and he turned bac...

Spargo turned on his disreputable and dissolute companion with all his journalistic energies and instincts roused. He had not been sure, since entering the “King of Madagascar,” that he was going to h...

Spargo dropped his pen on the desk before him with a sharp clatter that made Mrs. Gutch jump. A steady devotion to the bottle had made her nerves to be none of the strongest, and she looked at the sta...

Spargo went round again to the Temple that night at nine o’clock, asking himself over and over again two questions⁠—the first, how much does Elphick know? the second, how much shall I tell him? The ol...

Spargo sat down again in the chair which he had just left, and looked at the two people upon whom his startling announcement had produced such a curious effect. And he recognized as he looked at them ...

Alone of all the London morning newspapers, the Watchman appeared next day destitute of sensationalism in respect to the Middle Temple Murder. The other daily journals published more or less vivid acc...

There was as much bright sunshine that morning in Middle Temple Lane as ever manages to get into it, and some of it was shining in the entry into which Spargo and Breton presently hurried. Full of has...

That afternoon Spargo had another of his momentous interviews with his proprietor and his editor. The first result was that all three drove to the offices of the legal gentleman who catered for the Wa...

There travelled down together to Market Milcaster late that afternoon, Spargo, Breton, the officials from the Home Office, entrusted with the order for the opening of the Chamberlayne grave, and a sol...

Travelling all that long summer day, first from the southwest of England to the Midlands, then from the Midlands to the north, Spargo and Breton came late at night to Hawes’ Junction, on the border of...

Spargo, almost irritable from desire to get at close grips with the objects of his long journey, shook off Breton’s hand with a growl of resentment. “And how on earth can I waste time guessing?” he ex...

It had been apparent to Spargo, from the moment of his entering the cottage, that the two old men were suffering badly from shock and fright: Cardlestone still sat in his corner shivering and tremblin...

Myerst paused, to take a pull at his glass, and to look at the two amazed listeners with a smile of conscious triumph. “In the hands of Cardlestone,” he repeated. “Now, what did I argue from that? Why...