United States or Barbados ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Mordon knew a French girl in London, and she it was who carried the letter to Charles Rennett a letter that made him scratch his head many times before he took a sheet of paper, and addressing the manager of Lydia's bank, wrote: "This cheque is in order. Please honour." "Desperate diseases," said Jean Briggerland, "call for desperate remedies." Mr. Briggerland looked up from his book.
She was not the kind to fall in love, she told herself, she was too independent, too sophisticated, and understood men and their weaknesses only too well. "The Lord designed me for an old maid," she said to herself. At seven o'clock in the morning a grey, cheerless morning it was, thought Lydia, looking out of the window Mrs. Rennett came in with some tea.
"I can answer you with perfect truth that I did not, any more than the Home Secretary helped him when he gave him permission to go to a nursing home." Soon after the detective returned to the shed, and Jack and his partner were left alone. "Well?" said Rennett, in a shaking voice, "what happened?" "He's dead," said Jack quietly. "Suicide?" Jack looked at him oddly.
Jack sank down in a seat, his face screwed up into a hideous frown, and the elder man did not interrupt his thoughts. Suddenly Jack's face cleared and he smiled. "Jaggs!" he said softly. "Jaggs?" repeated his puzzled partner. "Jaggs," said Jack, nodding, "he's the fellow. We've got to meet strategy with strategy, Rennett, and Jaggs is the boy to do it." Mr. Rennett looked at him helplessly.
Rennett," he said, "I must tell you in the presence of witnesses, that I have escaped from a nursing home to which I had been sent by the clemency of the Secretary of State. When I informed you that I had received permission to come to your house this morning to get married, I told you that which was not true." "I'm sorry to hear that," said Rennett politely.
Briggerland was discovered in a picturesque dressing gown and, I presume, no less picturesque pyjamas." "Horrified, too, I suppose," said Rennett dryly. Jack was silent for a long time. Then: "Rennett," he said, "do you know I am more rattled about this girl than I am about any consequences to ourselves." "Which girl are you talking about?" "About Mrs. Meredith.
"And, of course, it is my duty to hand you over to the police, Mr. Meredith." It was all part of the game. The girl watched the play, knowing that this scene was carefully rehearsed, in order to absolve Rennett and his partner from complicity in the escape. Rennett had hardly spoken when there was a loud rat-tat at the front door, and Jack Glover hastened into the hall to answer.
"Ellbery did his poor best to shake her, but the old fool is half in love with her I left him raving about her pure soul and her other celestial etceteras." Mr. Rennett stroked his iron grey beard. "She's won," he said, but the other turned on him with a snarl. "Not yet!" he said almost harshly. "She hasn't won till Jimmy Meredith is dead or " "Or ?" repeated his partner significantly.
"If it were for a large sum? The manager would call us up and one of us would probably go round to your bank. It is only a block from our office. If Rennett or I said it was all right the cheque would be honoured. You may be sure that I should make very drastic inquiries as to the origin of the signature." And then she saw him stiffen and his eyes go to the door.
There are no tools there now, and one of my men discovered that you can pull up the whole of the floor, it works on a hinge and is balanced with counter-weights." Mr. Rennett nodded. "I believe it was used as a wine cellar by a former tenant of the house," he said coolly. "We have no cellars at the Grange, you know. I do not drink wine, and I've never had occasion to use it."
Word Of The Day