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Updated: May 9, 2025
When she thought herself unobserved, she stole swift glances at the visitor, trying evidently to read his character by observation of his face and manner. It would seem that her scrutiny was favourable, for before Mrs. Bensusan could answer Lucian's question she asked him one herself. "What do you want to know, sir?" "I want to know all about Mr. Wrent." "Why?"
"Lawks! no, sir!" wheezed Mrs. Bensusan, shaking her head. "I've never set eyes on him since he went. 'Ave you, Rhoda?" Whereat the girl shook her head also, and watched Lucian with an intensity of gaze which somewhat discomposed him. "Did he owe you any money when he went, Mrs. Bensusan?" "No, sir. He paid up like a gentleman. I always thought well of Mr. Wrent."
"Several things," said the girl shortly. "Have they to do with this crime?" asked Lucian eagerly. "I don't know. I can't say," said Rhoda; then suddenly her face grew black. "I tell you what, sir, I hate Mr. Wrent!" she declared. "Oh, Rhoda!" cried Mrs. Bensusan. "After the lovely cloak he gave you!"
He therefore dismissed all ideas of asking Link to intervene, and resolved to risk a personal interview with the tenant of the Jersey Street house. It would be time enough to invite Link's assistance, he thought, when Mrs. Bensusan as yet an unknown quantity in the case proved obstinate in replying to his questions. Mrs. Bensusan proved to be quite as stout as Miss Greeb had reported.
"I don't want to hear what Rhoda said," interrupted Lucian impatiently, "and I am not accusing you of the murder. But your house is at the back of No. 13." "Yes," replied Mrs. Bensusan, weeping like a Niobe. "And a fence divides your yard from that of No. 13?" "I won't contradict you, sir it do." "And there is a passage leading from Jersey Street into your yard?" "There is, Mr.
The death of Clear was due to an accident, I admit; but Rhoda has still one person who laments over her, for, although Mrs. Bensusan knows the truth, she always thinks of that red-haired minx as a kind of martyr, who was led into wicked ways by Clyne, alias Wrent." "I am sure Mrs. Clear doesn't think so." "Mrs.
Bensusan prefers gentlemen, who are out of doors all day, to ladies muddling and meddling all day about the house. I must say I do, too, Mr. Denzil," ended the lady, with a fascinating glance. "What is his name, Miss Greeb?" repeated Lucian, quite impervious to the hint. "Let me see," said Miss Greeb, discomfited at the result of her failure. "A queer name that had to do with payments.
Clear coming to this sensible conclusion, the door opened suddenly, and little Miss Greeb, in a wonderful state of agitation, tripped in. "Oh, Mr. Denzil! I've just been to Mrs. Bensusan's, and Rhoda's run away!" "Run away!" "Yes! She hasn't been back all day, and left a note for Mrs. Bensusan saying she was going to hide, because she was afraid." Now, indeed, Lucian had his hands full.
Denzil, the gentleman who occupies Miss Greeb's first floor front." "Yes. And I have come to ask you a few questions." "About what, sir?" said Mrs. Bensusan, visibly alarmed. "Concerning Mr. Wrent." "You are a friend of his?" "I said so, Mrs. Bensusan, but as a matter of fact I never set eyes on the gentleman in my life." Mrs.
There were present Mr Joseph Gutteres Henriques, President; Baron de Rothschild, Sir Moses Montefiore, Messrs Moses Mocatta, I. L. Goldsmid, Jacob Montefiore, Isaac Cohen, Henry H. Cohen, Samuel Bensusan, Dr Loewe, Messrs Louis Lucas, A. A. Goldsmid, Louis Cohen, H. de Castro, Haim Guedalla, Simon Samuel, Joel Davis, David Salamons, Abraham Levy, Jonas Levy, Laurence Myers, Solomon Cohen, Barnard van Oven, M.D., S. J. Waley, and F. H. Goldsmid.
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