Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 18, 2025
"No, sir, I don't. But if I haven't got your fingerprints, how am I going to tell them from the thief's?" "Oh, I see," Blensop said with a note of allayed apprehension, and put himself on record. The door opening to admit Colonel Stanistreet, Lanyard rose.
"Hadn't I better put these in the safe first?" "No no time." Stanistreet opened a drawer of the desk "Here!" and closed it as Blensop hastily swept the jewellery into it. "Safe enough there as long as he doesn't know, at all events. But don't forget to put them away after he goes." "No, sir." Again the door opened. Walker announced: "Mr. Duchemin." Stanistreet rose in his place.
"What a pity you must be chained down by inexorable duty, while we fly round and amuse ourselves." "I must not complain," Blensop stated with humility becoming in a dutiful martyr, a pose which he saw fit quickly to discard as another man came briskly into the room. "Ah, good evening, Colonel Stanistreet." "Evening, Blensop."
Already two hours had passed and, since he meant to call at the house on West End Avenue well in advance of the hour when Cecelia Brooke might be there presuming Blensop to have given her the same appointment as he had given "Mr. Ember," that is, nine o'clock it was now time to prepare.
"Yes, sir that's all of that." Stone stowed the camera away about his person and from another cranny produced a small cardboard box of glass slides, one of which he offered. "Now if you'll just run your fingers through your hair and rest them on this slide, light but steady...." "What for?" Blensop demanded with a giggle of nervous reluctance. "You don't think I'm the thief, do you?"
"Too frightfully weird...." She drifted across the threshold, then hesitated, a pretty figure of disdainful discontent. "But really, Colonel Stanistreet is right," Blensop interposed vivaciously. "What do you imagine I heard to-night? The Lone Wolf is in America!" "What is that you say?" Mrs. Arden demanded sharply. "The Lone Wolf ... Fact. Have it on most excellent authority." "The Lone Wolf!"
I had opened the safe before he entered, and searched it thoroughly, and knew the paper was not there though at that time it never entered my thick head to suspect Blensop of treachery. It was neither Blensop nor Ekstrom, Miss Brooke ... it was I who stole that necklace." She made no sound and did not stir; and though he dared not look he knew her stricken gaze was steadfast to his face.
During a brief silence he found opportunity to observe that Mr. Blensop was working with hands that trembled singularly. "Incredible!" Stanistreet commented. "Yet here is proof," Lanyard asserted, indicating the papers beneath Stanistreet's hand. "My dear sir, I didn't mean " "Pardon!" Lanyard smiled, with a lifted hand. "I never thought you did, Colonel Stanistreet.
"With pleasure," Lanyard assured him, his gravity unbroken. A doubt clouded Mr. Blensop's bright eyes, but its transit was instantaneous. He turned forthwith to join the iron-gray man before the portrait which concealed the safe. "And now, Mr. Stone," said Mr. Blensop, with indulgence. "Well, sir," said Mr.
"I wished to see Colonel Stanistreet." Mr. Blensop looked up with an indulgent smile. His face was round and smooth but for a perfectly docile little moustache, his lips full and red, his nose delicately chiselled; but his eyes, though large, were set cannily close together. "Colonel Stanistreet is unfortunately not at home. I am his secretary." "Yes," said Lanyard, still standing.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking