I sat fingering my pistol and waiting for him to speak again.
When he did so, it was with another dry chuckle and a long puff of
tobacco smoke.
"As you say, I know a deal too much. Shall I tell you how much?"
"Yes, you may if you'll be quick about it."
"Very well, then, I will. Do you mind passing the bottle?
Thank you. I probably know not only too much, but a deal more than
you guess. First let us take the case for the Crown. The jeweller is
travelling by coach at night over the moors. He has one postillion
only, Roger Tallis by name, and by character shady. The jeweller has
money (he was a niggardly fool to take only one postillion), and
carries a diamond of great, or rather of an enormous and notable
value (he was a bigger fool to take this). In the dark morning two
horses come galloping back, frightened and streaming with sweat.
A search party goes out, finds the coach upset by the Four Holed
Cross, the jeweller lying beside it with a couple of pistol bullets
in him, and the money, the diamond, and Roger Tallis--nowhere.
So much for the murdered man. Two or three days after, you, Gabriel
Foot, by character also shady, and known to be a friend of Roger
Tallis, are whispered to have a suspicious amount of money about you,
also blood-stains on your coat. It further leaks out that you were
travelling on the moors afoot on the night in question, and that your
pistols are soiled with powder.
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