The Crooked House - free ebook by Brandon Fleming

BRANDON FLEMING

Copyright, 1921, by EDWARD J. CLODE PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA...

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CHAPTER I

A Strange Riddle "Monsieur Tranter! A moment!" The Right-Honorable John Tranter swung round, latch-key in hand. Behind him, an enormous figure emerged, with surprisingly agile and noiseless steps, from the shadow of the adjoining house—a figure almost grotesque and monstrous in the dim light of the street lamp. The very hugeness of the apparition was so disconcerting that John Tranter drew back with a startled exclamation. "Good Lord! Monsieur Dupont? You in London?" Monsieur Dupont described ci

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CHAPTER II

The Crooked House It was no unusual thing for George Copplestone to spring surprises on his guests. He had a twisted sense of the dramatic, and twisted things were expected from him. On some occasions he perpetrated the wildest and most extravagant eccentricities, without the slightest regard for the moral or artistic sensibilities of those on whom he imposed them—on others he contented himself with less harrowing minor freaks—but the object of thoroughly upsetting and confounding the mental bal

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CHAPTER III

The Endless Garden Confusion followed. Copplestone knelt beside her, calling her by name in a strange excess of fear. The theatrical manager tore a flask from his pocket, and administered its contents freely. The spirit revived her. She opened her eyes. They lifted her gently, and laid her on a couch. "It was that madman rushing in unnerved her," Copplestone cried fiercely. "Wish I'd called in the police. Curse him!" Her hand closed on his. "No, no," she whispered. "He must not be touched. He di

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CHAPTER IV

Destruction A deep-toned clock in the house struck twelve. Rain began to fall. A few moments later the financier hurried across the lawns with his collar turned up. The danseuse followed him. She seemed a disappointed and indignant woman. "It's almost an insult," she complained overtaking him. "Noth a penny more," said the financier firmly. They both turned quickly. Her hand gripped his arm convulsively. Wild shouting arose in the darkness, and the sound of someone forcing a headlong way through

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CHAPTER V

Copplestone Detective-Inspector Fay was an able and successful officer, of international reputation, whose achievements had placed a substantial price on his head in most countries sufficiently civilized to possess their criminal organizations. His bag had included many famous law-breakers, and, though now employed in less strenuous directions, he was admitted to be one of the most skilful and reliable of Scotland Yard's unravelers of mystery. But, experienced as he was, the inspector could not

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CHAPTER VI

The Trail Of Corpses The inspector closed the door behind him. "What has brought you back into the arena?" he asked quietly. "A riddle," the Frenchman answered, in an equally low tone. "It must have been something pretty big to have tempted you ," the inspector remarked, coming closer to him. "It was," Monsieur Dupont admitted. The other glanced cautiously towards the curtains at the far end of the room. "Why are you here—in this house?" he demanded softly. "By chance," Monsieur Dupont replied.

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CHAPTER VII

Tranter "Mr. Tranter," said the inspector, "I understand that you were the last person to see Miss Manderson alive." "I believe I was," Tranter replied. The inspector sat down again at the table, and re-opened his note-book. "Will you kindly tell me exactly what happened from the time you went out into the garden after dinner, and the time you left Miss Manderson?" "We strolled away from the house together, in the direction of the river. The events of the evening seemed to have upset her very mu

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CHAPTER VIII

Mrs. Astley-Rolfe "Madam," said the inspector, placing a chair for her, "I need only trouble you with one or two questions. You will understand that it is necessary for me to account for each member of this party, so that I may know which of them can, or cannot, assist me in my investigations." She sat down with a weary movement. Her hands trembled slightly. "It is very dreadful," she shuddered. "Such a frightful crime is inconceivable. Who could have hated the poor girl so dreadfully?" "That re

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CHAPTER IX

The Danseuse "Madame Krashoff," summoned the inspector. The danseuse was in a condition of the utmost distress. " Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! " she wept. "Please calm yourself, madame," the inspector requested patiently. "I ken nothin' o' the creeme!" she sobbed thoughtlessly. "I am sure of that," he declared gravely. "I merely wish to establish the movements of every one here. With whom did you pass the time after you went out into the garden until the alarm was given?" "Wi' M'soo Gluckstein," she whim

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CHAPTER X

Mr. Gluckstein The financier was extremely agitated, and tried to shake hands with the inspector. "Mr. Gluckstein, I understand from Madame Krashoff that you were with her in the garden for the greater part of the time before the crime was discovered." "I wath," the financier quivered—"indeed I wath, inthpector." "Then she left you for about ten minutes?" "Not tho much ath ten minutes," corrected the financier hastily. "What did you do after she left you?" "I stayed vere I vath—until the rain co

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CHAPTER XI

The Clergyman "Mr. Delamere," said the inspector, "you discovered the body?" "I did," replied the clergyman, with a shiver. "Were you alone when you found it?" "Yes. I had been walking with Mr. Bolsover for about quarter of an hour. Then he turned back to find some of the others, and I strolled on to the river." "Did you meet any one else?" "No." "You saw nothing of this young man, Layton, who was chased towards the river by Mr. Bolsover?" "Nothing whatever." "No sounds of a struggle?" "No. I he

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CHAPTER XII

Mr. Bolsolver "My God!" exclaimed the manager, "what an appalling business!" "It is," the inspector agreed shortly. "She was to have appeared at my theater, too," said the manager ruefully. "I understand that you found Layton sneaking about the house?" "Yes. I first strolled out with Mr. Delamere. Then I left him, and went back to see where the others had got to, and saw Layton creeping round the side of the house towards the open drawing-room windows. He heard my footsteps on the path, and bolt

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CHAPTER XIII

The Trinity of Death In Tranter's car, its owner and Monsieur Dupont started, at half-past one, on their return from the crooked house. The storm had passed, and the air was fresh and cool. It was possibly the atmospheric clearance which accounted for the fact, that, however, fatigued he had been, or appeared to be, at the end of his conversation with the inspector, Monsieur Dupont was now particularly wide-awake and alert. " Dieu! " he cried, "what a terrible crime! Almost to tear that woman to

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CHAPTER XIV

Without Trace At ten o'clock, Tranter and Monsieur Dupont stood with Inspector Fay in the garden. The Rev. Percival Delamere joined them a few minutes later, and the theatrical manager arrived shortly afterwards. Finally, still in the same half-dazed condition, George Copplestone emerged from the house. " Mon Dieu ," Monsieur Dupont whispered quickly. "Look at that man!" His face was white, with a sickly pasty whiteness. In the few hours that had passed he seemed to have wasted to a startling ga

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CHAPTER XV

A Builder of Men James Layton occupied two dingy rooms, in a dilapidated house, situated between a church and a public-house, in as squalid and unwholesome a street as any in the East End of London. In them he spent such time as was left to him—and it was not much—after his active ministrations among the denizens of the miserable neighborhood. They were scantily furnished, and of comforts there were none. He denied himself anything beyond the barest necessities of existence, with the exception o

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CHAPTER XVI

A Triple Alliance He led the girl out of the house. At the corner of the street a taxi was waiting. He opened the door. "Where are we going?" she demanded suspiciously. "To the Hotel Savoy, mademoiselle," he answered. She hung back. "Why should I go with you?" she asked defiantly. "I have never seen you before. I don't know who you are." "Mademoiselle," he replied, "your friend is in great danger. He will not be able to help himself. If you do not come with me, you will not be able to help him.

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CHAPTER XVII

Mr. Gluckstein In Confidence Mrs. Astley-Rolfe invariably received her creditors in pink deshabille. The financier, Mr. Solomon Gluckstein, original and senior representative of John Brown &amp; Co., Jermyn Street, was particularly fond of pink, and extremely susceptible to deshabille. Whiskey-and-soda, personally prepared for him in sufficient strength by his charming debtor, increased the fondness and the susceptibility. "Ma tear lady," said Mr. Gluckstein, with desperate firmness, "I have

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CHAPTER XVIII

The Wit of the Pink Lady Inspector Fay entered the room at one end a few seconds after Mr. Gluckstein left it at the other. Mrs. Astley-Rolfe greeted him in a friendly fashion. She showed considerable strain—but, otherwise, was looking her best. And her best was delightful. "Good morning, inspector," she said languidly. "Good morning, madam." He glanced back to make certain that the door was closed. "I trust you have recovered from the shock of the crime." "I still feel it very much," she replie

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CHAPTER XIX

Detained on Suspicion Inspector Fay left the house of the lady in pink with a satisfied expression on his face. At the corner of the street he hailed a taxi, and drove to Scotland Yard. Under the watchful eyes of his escort, James Layton awaited him. The millionaire was perfectly composed, and appeared to be under no apprehension as to the outcome of his visit. He accompanied the inspector to a private room, and sat down in a comfortable chair without the smallest sign of alarm. "Mr. James Layto

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CHAPTER XX

The Birth of the Killer Monsieur Dupont was one of those fortunate individuals who can sleep in a train. He left Paddington at one o'clock, and slept for an hour, a sleep of childlike ease and innocence. When he woke the train was within five minutes of his destination. He alighted at a small country station, and instituted inquiries for a conveyance. Twenty minutes later, an unimpressionable horse, attached to a hybrid vehicle, was jogging him along country lanes which would have delighted a ma

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CHAPTER XXI

A Hasty Flight Doctor Lessing re-entered the room with a letter in his hand. "The last address I can find," he said, "is 35, De Vere Terrace, Streatham. That is sixteen years old, but as it tells me that she had only just moved in, you might find her still there." Monsieur Dupont made a note of the address. "There remains only one question," he said, replacing his pocket-book. "Can you tell me the name of the child?" The doctor shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't. The child was christened in the

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CHAPTER XXII

Tranter Attacks the Crooked House In the evening, Tranter set off to the Crooked House. It was dark when he reached it, and the roads were empty. Through the open lodge gates he slipped into the garden unseen. The place seemed deserted. The front of the house showed not a glimmer of light. The whole ugly shape of it stood out gauntly against the sky of the summer night. In the shadow of the trees, he stood watching it, alert to detect a sign of life. But no such sign appeared. The Crooked House

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CHAPTER XXIII

A Duel On the afternoon of the same day, an hour after the departure of Inspector Fay, Mrs. Astley-Rolfe had sped herself to Richmond, in a luxurious motor car, which was her's through the instrumentality of Mr. Gluckstein. She had found the house of George Copplestone plunged into the darkness of a house of mourning. Every blind was drawn. Every particle of color had been removed or draped. Black reigned supreme. Copplestone was not pleased to see her, and made no attempt to assume the contrary

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CHAPTER XXIV

The Secret of the House She followed him out of the black room into a dark, narrow passage. Her calmness and self-possession remained undisturbed. Without a tremor she accepted this unexpected invitation to the secrets of the Crooked House—quite ignorant of, and indifferent to, the danger to which she might be committing herself. That there were hidden things in the house she had for a long time been convinced, but of their nature she had been unable to form even a conjecture, in spite of many a

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CHAPTER XXV

Truer Colors A great change had come over her. All the hardness had disappeared from her face. It was transformed by a wonderful new pity—a latent compassion, stirred for the first time by this miserable man's utter tragedy. And so transformed she was very lovely—with a loveliness that all the arts of an accomplished society woman had never bestowed upon her. "Forgive me," she said gently. "I would not have said what I did if I had even thought ... of that." He looked down at her, a world of ago

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CHAPTER XXVI

Providing for the Worst Though Inspector Fay had disclosed no more than was necessary for the purpose of the initial charge, the arrest of James Layton was popularly considered to have solved the mystery of the murder of Christine Manderson. No one realized more fully than Layton himself the overwhelming strength of the case against him. He was as good as condemned already. Beyond his own assertion of innocence, he was utterly defenseless against a sequence of evidence that might well have shatt

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CHAPTER XXVII

The Disappearance of Tranter At one o'clock on the following day, Monsieur Dupont sat in his room waiting for Tranter. At half-past one he had become impatient. At two he seized the telephone directory, and, a minute later, the instrument. At two-thirty he obtained his number. The answer to his first question stiffened him into an attitude of rigid tensity. "Mr. Tranter is not in, sir," a voice told him. "He has disappeared." "Disappeared?" Monsieur Dupont echoed sharply. "We do not know what ha

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CHAPTER XXVIII

In Pursuit Inspector Fay was occupied with the arrangement of the evidence to be presented at the inquest on the body of Christine Manderson. He disliked interruptions when at work, but the appearance of Monsieur Dupont banished his annoyance, and called forth a smile of complacent triumph. "My friend," said Monsieur Dupont, "you know me well enough to be sure that I would not mislead you?" There was that in the look of him that caused the smile to fade from the inspector's face. "Of course," he

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CHAPTER XXIX

Ethics of Killing They swung out from Scotland Yard into Whitehall. "What has happened?" the inspector asked. Monsieur Dupont leant forward, controlling his excitement with an effort. " Mon Dieu ," he said, "I wish I knew!" He took the telegram from his pocket. "It is an hour only that I have returned from Richmond. I found the house of George Copplestone in course of transformation. I found all the windows open. I found men and women cleaning—painting—making new. I found a hundred men ... makin

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CHAPTER XXX

Monsieur Dupont's Task He bought the tickets, and conducted the inspector to a train. "Where are we going?" demanded the bewildered officer, as Monsieur Dupont settled himself in a corner, and produced his cigar case. "We are going," said Monsieur Dupont, "to a delightful little village, hidden away in the hills of the country—far from the sins of cities—where they do not even know that Paris is the center of the world." Fortunately they had the carriage to themselves. Monsieur Dupont smoked in

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CHAPTER XXXI

What They Heard They crept round the house. At the back a pair of French windows were open, but heavy curtains were drawn across them. No light was visible. They listened. A voice was speaking—slowly, scarcely above a whisper, but a whisper of contemptuous pride. "Yes," it said, "I am the Destroyer! I was born to kill. It was the curse of my birth." The silence of the room was broken only by the faint sound of a woman sobbing. Monsieur Dupont and the inspector drew nearer to the window. "You foo

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CHAPTER XXXII

The Beauty-Killer Four more figures dashed out through the curtains—two women and two men. The inspector and Monsieur Dupont joined them. Guided by the sounds in front of them, they dashed across the garden at the top of their speed. A black wall of earth loomed up before them, like the rising of a gigantic wave. It was strongly rivetted, and must have been at least ten feet high. It was quite inaccessible from where the pursuers stopped beneath it. "Look! Look!" a woman screamed. They looked up

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CHAPTER XXXIII

Last Truths "My friends," said Monsieur Dupont, "you have already heard a great part of the story. John Tranter was the son of Oscar Winslowe. He was mad. He was, as he called himself truly, a Beauty-Killer. That strange lust he inherited from his mother, who had been robbed of all she cared for, and hoped for, in life by a beautiful woman, and rendered insane three months before his birth. It was a most pathetic tragedy. We shall now hear——" "One moment," Inspector Fay interrupted. "As I repres

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CHAPTER XXXIV

Conclusion Half-an-hour later, when the doctor's statement had been made, Copplestone and Mrs. Astley-Rolfe stood together in the flower-laden garden. "My dear," said the new man, "I brought you here to witness my deliverance. Yesterday, when you had left me, I made up my mind to put an end to my life. To-day I am free. The cloud has rolled away. I am fit to keep my promise—if you wish it kept." She smiled up at him through happy tears. "If I wish it kept!" she whispered. "By Jove!" Copplestone

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