gilder

Merton's official superior, a grizzled and capable detective named Gilder, was standing on the green bank waiting for the coroner, talking to Patrick Royce, whose big shoulders and bristly beard and hair towered above him.

Gilder, have you got much farther with the mystery?"

"There is no mystery," replied Gilder, as he looked under dreamy eyelids at the rooks.

"Well," drawled Gilder, "when the train had gone on again, that man had gone too.

"Yes, my son, I'm pretty sure," replied Gilder drily, "for the trifling reason that he has gone off with twenty thousand pounds in papers that were in his master's desk.

Gilder looked round at this wild remark, and rather sternly asked Brown what he meant.

Gilder frowningly scrutinised the window, and then said: "Well, it is certainly possible.

they've got him," cried Gilder, and stepped forward with quite a new alertness.

"Sergeant," said Inspector Gilder, eyeing the black hands with wrath, "aren't you putting the bracelets on this fellow; he looks pretty dangerous."

Gilder looked at the man-servant in utter amazement.

"Surely," said Gilder, "Sir Aaron's money might have been safely left with Sir Aaron's family."

Merton felt an almost bodily sickness at the sight of him; and he muttered to Gilder: "Surely you would take Miss Armstrong's word against his?"