"
"What cable?"
Carruthers took a telegram from his pocket.
"That's it," said he.
It was short and concise:
THE OLD MAN IS DEAD.
"Hum!" said Holmes. "I think I see how things worked, and
I can understand how this message would, as you say, bring
them to a head. But while you wait, you might tell me what you
can."
The old reprobate with thc surplice burst into a volley of bad
language.
"By heaven!" said he, "if you squeal on us, Bob Carruthers
I'll serve you as you served Jack Woodley. You can bleat about
the girl to your heart's content, for that's your own affair, but if
you round on your pals to this plain-clothes copper, it will be the
worst day's work that ever you did."
"Your reverence need not be excited," said Holmes, lighting
a cigarette. "The case is clear enough against you, and all I ask
is a few details for my private curiosity. However, if there's any
difficulty in your telling me, I'll do the talking, and then you
will see how far you have a chance of holding back your secrets.
In the first place, three of you came from South Africa on this
game -- you Williamson, you Carruthers, and Woodley.
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