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28 chapters
CHAPTER I. THE MASTER OF HARKINGS
CHAPTER I. THE MASTER OF HARKINGS
Of all the luxuries of which Hartley Parrish’s sudden rise to wealth gave him possession, Bude, his butler, was the acquisition in which he took the greatest delight and pride. Bude was a large and comfortable-looking person, triple-chinned like an archdeacon, bald-headed except for a respectable and saving edging of dark down, clean-shaven, benign of countenance, with a bold nose which to the psychologist bespoke both ambition and inborn cleverness. He had a thin, tight mouth which in itself al
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CHAPTER II. AT TWILIGHT
CHAPTER II. AT TWILIGHT
There is a delicious snugness, a charming lack of formality, about the ceremony of afternoon tea in an English country-house—it is much too indefinite a rite to dignify it by the name of meal—which makes it the most pleasant reunion of the day. For English country-house parties consist, for the most part, of a succession of meals to which the guests flock the more congenially as, in the interval, they have contrived to avoid one another’s companionship. And so, scarcely had the last reverberatio
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CHAPTER III. A DISCOVERY
CHAPTER III. A DISCOVERY
Harkings was not a large house. Some three hundred years ago it had been a farm, but in the intervening years successive owners had so altered it by pulling down and building on, that, when it passed into the possession of Hartley Parrish, little else than the open fireplace in the lounge remained to tell of the original farm. It was a queer, rambling house of only two stories whose elongated shape was accentuated by the additional wing which Hartley Parrish had built on. For the decoration of h
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CHAPTER IV. BETWEEN THE DESK AND THE WINDOW
CHAPTER IV. BETWEEN THE DESK AND THE WINDOW
Hartley Parrish’s library was a splendid room, square in shape, lofty and well proportioned. It was lined with books arranged in shelves of dark brown oak running round the four walls, but sunk level with them and reaching up to a broad band of perfectly plain white plasterwork. It was a cheerful, comfortable, eminently modern room, half library, half office. The oak was solid, but uncompromisingly new. The great leather armchairs were designed on modern lines—for comfort rather than for appeara
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CHAPTER V. IN WHICH BUDE LOOKS AT ROBIN GREVE
CHAPTER V. IN WHICH BUDE LOOKS AT ROBIN GREVE
The library door opened. A large, square-built, florid man in the braided uniform of a police inspector stood on the threshold of the room. Beside him was Bude who, with an air of dignity and respectful mourning suitably blended, waved him into the room. “The—ahem!—body is in here, Mr. Humphries, sir!” Inspector Humphries stepped quickly into the room. A little countryfied in appearance and accent, he had the careful politeness, the measured restraint, and the shrewd eye of the typical police of
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CHAPTER VI. THE LETTER
CHAPTER VI. THE LETTER
The great drawing-room of Harkings was ablaze with light. The cluster of lights in the heavy crystal chandelier and the green-shaded electric lamps in their gilt sconces on the plain white-panelled walls coldly lit up the formal, little-used room with its gilt furniture, painted piano, and huge marble fireplace. This glittering Louis Seize environment seemed altogether too much for the homely Inspector. Whilst waiting for Mary Trevert to come to him, he tried several attitudes in turn. The empty
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CHAPTER VII. VOICES IN THE LIBRARY
CHAPTER VII. VOICES IN THE LIBRARY
The swift tragedy of the winter afternoon had convulsed the well-organized repose of Hartley Parrish’s household. Nowhere had his master grasp of detail been seen to better advantage than in the management of his country home. Overwhelmed with work though he constantly was, accustomed to carry his business and often part of his business staff to Harkings with him for the week-ends, there was never the least confusion about the house. The methodical calm of Harkings was that of a convent. Hartley
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CHAPTER VIII. ROBIN GOES TO MARY
CHAPTER VIII. ROBIN GOES TO MARY
The house telephone, standing on the long and gracefully designed desk with its elaborately lacquered top, whirred. Mary started from her reverie in her chair by the fire. By the clock on the mantelshelf she saw that it was a quarter past eight. She remembered that once her mother had knocked at her door and bidden her come down to dinner. She had refused the invitation, declining to unlock the door. She lifted the receiver. “That you, Mary?” Robin was speaking. “May I come up and see you? Or wo
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CHAPTER IX. MR. MANDERTON
CHAPTER IX. MR. MANDERTON
A quality which had gone far to lay the foundations of the name which Robin Greve was rapidly making at the bar was his strong intuitive sense. He had the rare ability of correctly ‘sensing’ an atmosphere, an uncanny flair for driving instantly at the heart of a situation, which rendered him in the courts a dexterous advocate and a redoubtable opponent. Now, as he came into the lounge from the big oak staircase, he instantly realized that he had entered an unfriendly atmosphere. The concealed li
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CHAPTER X. A SMOKING CHIMNEY
CHAPTER X. A SMOKING CHIMNEY
A Red sun glowed dully through a thin mist when, on the following morning, Robin Greve emerged from the side door into the gardens of Harkings. It was a still, mild day. Moisture from the night’s rain yet hung translucent on the black limbs of the bare trees and glistened like diamonds on the closely cropped turf of the lawn. In the air was a pleasant smell of damp earth. Robin paused an instant outside the door in the library corridor and inhaled the morning air greedily. He had spent a restles
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CHAPTER XI. “... SPEED THE PARTING GUEST!”
CHAPTER XI. “... SPEED THE PARTING GUEST!”
Dr. Romain was just finishing his breakfast as Robin Greve entered the dining-room, a cosy oak-panelled room with a bow window fitted with cushioned window-seats. Horace Trevert stood with his back to the fire. There was no sign of either Lady Margaret or of Mary. Silence seemed to fall on both the doctor and his companion as Robin came in. They wore that rather abashed look which people unconsciously assume when they break off a conversation on an unexpected entry. “Morning, Horace! Morning, Do
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CHAPTER XII. MR. MANDERTON IS NONPLUSSED
CHAPTER XII. MR. MANDERTON IS NONPLUSSED
Horace Trevert walked abruptly into Mary’s Chinese boudoir. Lady Margaret and the girl were standing by the fire. “Well,” said Horace, dropping into a chair, “he’s gone!” “Who?” said Lady Margaret. “Robin,” answered the boy, “and I must say he took it very well ...” “You don’t mean to tell me, Horace,” said his mother, “that you have actually sent Robin Greve away ...?” Mary Trevert put her hand on her mother’s arm. “I wished it, Mother. I asked Horace to send him away ...” “But, my dear,” prote
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CHAPTER XIII. JEEKES
CHAPTER XIII. JEEKES
Mr. Albert Edward Jeekes, Hartley Parrish’s principal private secretary, lunched with Lady Margaret, Mary and Horace. Dr. Romain seemed not to have got over his embarrassment of the morning, for he did not put in an appearance. Mr. Jeekes was an old young man who supported bravely the weight of his Christian names, a reminder of his mother having occupied some small post in the household of Queen Victoria the Good. He might have been any age between 35 and 50 with his thin sandy hair, his myopic
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CHAPTER XIV. A SHEET OF BLUE PAPER
CHAPTER XIV. A SHEET OF BLUE PAPER
The sight of that crumpled ball of slatey-blue paper brought back to Robin’s mind with astonishing vividness every detail of the scene in the library. Once more he looked into Hartley Parrish’s staring, unseeing eyes, saw the firelight gleam again on the heavy gold signet ring on the dead man’s hand, the tag of the dead man’s bootlace as it trailed from one sprawling foot across the carpet. Once more he felt the dark cloud of the mystery envelop him as a mist and with a little sigh he smoothed o
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CHAPTER XV. SHADOWS
CHAPTER XV. SHADOWS
Robert Greve stood for an instant in silence by the window of his rooms. His fingers hammered out a tattoo on the pane. His eyes were fixed on the windows of the chambers across the court. But they did not take in the pleasant prospect of the tall, ivy-framed casements in their mellow setting of warm red brick. He was trying to fix a mental photograph of a letter—typewritten on paper of dark slatey blue—which he had seen on Hartley Parrish’s desk in the library at Harkings on the previous aftern
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CHAPTER XVI. THE INTRUDER
CHAPTER XVI. THE INTRUDER
“D——!” exclaimed Bruce Wright. He stood in the great porch at Harkings, his finger on the electric bell. No sound came in response to the pressure, nor any one to open the door. Thus he had stood for fully ten minutes listening in vain for any sound within the house. All was still as death. He began to think that the bell was out of order. He had forgotten Hartley Parrish’s insistence on quiet. All bells at Harkings rang, discreetly muted, in the servants’ hall. He stepped out of the porch on to
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CHAPTER XVII. A FRESH CLUE
CHAPTER XVII. A FRESH CLUE
“Oh!” cried the girl, “you frightened me! You frightened me! What do you want here ... in this horrible room?” She was trembling. One slim hand plucked nervously at her dress. Her breath came and went quickly. “I saw the curtain move. I thought it was the wind at first. But then I saw the outline of your fingers. And I imagined it was he ... come back ...” “Miss Trevert,” said the boy abashed, “I must have frightened you terribly. I had no idea it was you!” “But why are you hiding here? How did
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CHAPTER XVIII. THE SILENT SHOT
CHAPTER XVIII. THE SILENT SHOT
That faithful servitor of Fleet Street, the Law Courts clock, had just finished striking seven. It boomed out the hour, stroke by stroke, solemnly, inexorably, like a grim old judge summing up and driving home, point by point, an irrefutable charge. The heavy strokes broke in upon the fitful doze into which Robin Greve, stretched out in an armchair in his living-room, had dropped. He roused up with a start. There was the click of a key in the lock of his front door. Bruce Wright burst into the r
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CHAPTER XIX. MR. MANDERTON LAYS HIS CARDS ON THE TABLE
CHAPTER XIX. MR. MANDERTON LAYS HIS CARDS ON THE TABLE
The detective’s manner had undergone some subtle change which Robin, watching him closely as he came into the room, was quick to note. Mr. Manderton made an effort to retain his old air of rather patronizing swagger; but he seemed less sure of himself than was his wont. In fact, he appeared to be a little anxious. He walked briskly into the sitting-room and looked quickly from Bruce to Robin. “Mr. Greve,” he said, “you can help me if you will by answering a few questions ...” With another glance
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CHAPTER XX. THE CODE KING
CHAPTER XX. THE CODE KING
Major Euan MacTavish was packing. A heavy and well-worn leather portmanteau, much adorned with foreign luggage labels, stood in the centre of the floor. From a litter of objects piled up on a side table the Major was transferring to it various brown-paper packages which he checked by a list in his hand. The Major always packed for himself. He packed with the neatness and rapidity derived from long experience of travel. As a matter of fact, he could not afford a manservant any more than he could
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CHAPTER XXI. A WORD WITH MR. JEEKES
CHAPTER XXI. A WORD WITH MR. JEEKES
Life is like a kaleidoscope, that ingenious toy which was the delight of the Victorian nursery. Like the glass fragments in its slide, different in colour and shape, men’s lives lie about without seeming connection; then Fate gives the instrument a shake, and behold! the fragments slide into position and form an intricate mosaic.... Mark how Fate proceeded on the wet and raw Sunday evening when Bruce Wright, at the instance of Mr. Manderton, quitted Robin Greve’s chambers in the Temple, leaving
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CHAPTER XXII. THE MAN WITH THE YELLOW FACE
CHAPTER XXII. THE MAN WITH THE YELLOW FACE
In a narrow, drowsy side street at Rotterdam, bisected by a somnolent canal, stood flush with the red-brick sidewalk a small clean house. Wire blinds affixed to the windows of its ground and first floors gave it a curious blinking air as though its eyes were only half open. To the neat green front door was affixed a large brass plate inscribed with the single name: “Schulz.” A large woman, in a pink print dress with a white cloth bound about her head, was vigorously polishing the plate as, on th
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CHAPTER XXIII. TWO’S COMPANY ...
CHAPTER XXIII. TWO’S COMPANY ...
On the pavement opposite the post-office stood one of those high pillars which are commonly used in Continental cities for the display of theatre and concert advertisements. Robin instantly stepped behind it. It was not that he wished to avoid being seen by Jeekes as much as that he had not decided in his mind what course he had best pursue. From behind the cover of the pillar he mustered his man. The little secretary looked strange and unfamiliar in a sporting sort of travelling ulster of a taw
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CHAPTER XXIV. THE METAMORPHOSIS OF MR. SCHULZ
CHAPTER XXIV. THE METAMORPHOSIS OF MR. SCHULZ
As the girl collapsed, the yellow-faced man, with an adroit movement, whisked the handkerchief off her face and crammed it into his pocket. Then, while he supported her with one arm, with the other he thrust at the door to close it. Without paying further attention to it, he turned and, bending down, lifted the girl without an effort off her feet and carried her across the room to the Chesterfield, upon which he laid her at full length. Then he seized her muff, which dangled from her neck by a t
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CHAPTER XXV. THE READING OF THE RIDDLE
CHAPTER XXV. THE READING OF THE RIDDLE
In uttering those words Herr Schulz seemed suddenly to become loose-limbed and easy. His plethoric rigidity of manner vanished, and, though he spoke with a brisk air of authority, there was a jovial ring in his voice which instantly inspired confidence. With the change the illusion supported by his appalling clothes was broken and he looked like a man dressed up for charades. “Are you—English?” asked Robin in astonishment. “Only in this room,” was the dry reply, “and don’t you or our friend, the
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CHAPTER XXVI. THE FIGURE IN THE DOORWAY
CHAPTER XXVI. THE FIGURE IN THE DOORWAY
The rain was coming down in torrents and the night was black as pitch when, leaving the lights of Rotterdam behind, the car swung out on to the main road leading to the Villa Bergendal. Thanks to a powerful headlight, Robin was able to get a good turn of speed out of her as soon as they were clear of the city. As they slowed down at the gate in the side road Herr Schulz tapped him on the shoulder. “Better leave the car here and put the lights out,” he counselled. “And Miss Trevert should stay if
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CHAPTER XXVII. AN INTERRUPTION FROM BEYOND
CHAPTER XXVII. AN INTERRUPTION FROM BEYOND
Sudden frost had laid an icy finger on the gardens of Harkings. The smooth green lawns were all dappled with white and wore a pinched and chilly look save under the big and solemn firs where the ground, warmed by its canopy of branches and coverlet of cones, had thawed in dark patches. The gravel walks were firm and dry; and in the rosery the bare skeleton of the pergolas stood out in clear-cut silhouette against a white and woolly sky. Overnight the frost had come. It had taken even the birds b
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CHAPTER XXVIII. THE DEATH OF HARTLEY PARRISH
CHAPTER XXVIII. THE DEATH OF HARTLEY PARRISH
“For Miss Trevert.” Thus, in Jeekes’s round and flowing commercial hand, the document began: Last Statement of Albert Edward Jeekes, made at Rotterdam, this twenty-first Day of January, in the Year of Our Lord One Thousand Nine Hundred and... Mr. Bardy, the solicitor, to whom, by common consent, the reading of the confession had been entrusted, raised his eyebrows, thereby letting his eyeglass fall, and looked round at the company. “Pon my soul,” he remarked, “for a man about to take his own lif
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