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Page 103
Glassdale saw Folliot and took stock of him before Folliot
knew that a stranger was within his gates. Folliot, in an old
jacket which he kept for his horticultural labours, was taking
slips from a standard; he looked as harmless and peaceful as
his occupation. A quiet, inoffensive, somewhat benevolent
elderly man, engaged in work, which suggested leisure and
peace.
But Glassdale, after a first quick, searching glance,
took another and longer one--and went nearer with
a discreet laugh.
Folliot turned quietly, and seeing the stranger, showed no
surprise. He had a habit of looking over the top rims of his
spectacles at people, and he looked in this way at Glassdale,
glancing him up and down calmly. Glassdale lifted his slouch
hat and advanced.
"Mr. Folliot, I believe, sir?" he said. "Mr. Stephen
Folliot?"
"Aye, just so!" responded Folliot. "But I don't know you.
Who may you be, now?"
"My name, sir, is Glassdale," answered the other. "I've just
come from your solicitor's. I called to see him this
afternoon--and he told me that the business I called about
could only be dealt with--or discussed--with you. So--I came
here."
Folliot, who had been cutting slips off a rose-tree, closed
his knife and put it away in his old jacket. He turned and
quietly inspected his visitor once more.
"Aye!" he said quietly. "So you're after that thousand pound
reward, eh?"
"I should have no objection to it, Mr. Folliot," replied
Glassdale.
"I dare say not," remarked Folliot, dryly. "I dare say not!
And which are you, now?--one of those who think they can tell
something, or one that really can tell? Eh?"
"You'll know that better when we've had a bit of talk, Mr.
Folliot," answered Glassdale, accompanying his reply with a
direct glance.
"Oh, well, now then, I've no objection to a bit of talk--none
whatever!" said Folliot. "Here!--we'll sit down on that
bench, amongst the roses. Quite private here--nobody about.
And now," he continued, as Glassdale accompanied him to a
rustic bench set beneath a pergola of rambler roses, "who are
you, like? I read a queer account in this morning's local
paper of what happened in the Cathedral grounds yonder last
night, and there was a person of your name mentioned. Are you
that Glassdale?"
"The same, Mr. Folliot," answered the visitor, promptly.
"Then you knew Braden--the man who lost his life here?" asked
Folliot.
"Very well indeed," replied Glassdale.
"For how long?" demanded Folliot.
"Some years--as a mere acquaintance, seen now and then," said
Glassdale. "A few years, recently, as what you might call a
close friend."
"Tell you any of his secrets?" asked Folliot.
"Yes, he did!" answered Glassdale.
"Anything that seems to relate to his death--and the mystery
about it?" inquired Folliot.
"I think so," said Glassdale. "Upon consideration, I think
so!"
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