A Front of Brass by Fred M. White — Read

Manley asked himself the question again and again. Why had Paul Spencer taken all this trouble and why had he addressed that telegram to himself. There was very little doubt that he had adopted such a course. He had discovered where the paper was to be obtained from his disreputable clerk Clarkson, and the rest had emanated from his disordered brain. More or less from the first, Manley had suspected suicide here, and now he began to be pretty sure of it. If he had known anything of the movements of the eccentric John Smith he might have modified his views, but then no such person existed so far as he was concerned.

Paul Spencer had thrown himself over the cliff in sight of his partner, and the revolver shot that had so impressed Grant was a theatrical effect merely. Spencer had put himself out of the way in such a manner as pointed to a violent end. He had escaped the stigma of suicide. There are many madmen who take their lives and yet are sane enough to desire a decent burial. Doubtless Paul Spencer was one of them. To all practical purposes, then, Manley had solved the mystery. Spencer had committed suicide. The suggestion that he had been murdered was absurd. All the same there were one or two little points to be cleared up before Manley laid the result of his investigations before Scotland Yard. He had to sec Clarkson first. He could not imagine what the discharged clerk was doing in Fairford. His presence there was more or less suspicious. He might be up to some mischief. But the first thing was to prove beyond a doubt that Spencer's mysterious telegram was a forgery. A visit to the post office at Fairford would settle that question. Manley called there without delay.