United States or Guinea-Bissau ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Can you tell me a place where I could stay; for the night somewhere quiet and respectable?" Mr. Brimsdown found himself listening anxiously for the porter's reply. By all the laws of Romance he should have had an old mother in a clean and humble home who would have been delighted to give the girl shelter for the sight of her pretty face.
Turold did my husband good his breeding and conversation were just what he needed to lift him out of himself. A man goes to seed in the country, Mr. Brimsdown, no matter how intellectual he may be. Nature is delightful, but a man needs to be near Piccadilly to keep smart. Cornwall is so very far away so remote and Cornish rocks are dreadfully severe on good clothes.
A silence fell between them on this declaration a silence terminated by Barrant remarking that it was really late, and he must be getting back to Penzance. Mr. Brimsdown made no suggestion to accompany him. Instead he rustled papers in Robert Turold's cabinet as though to convey the impression that the sorting and searching of them would take him some time.
The grave sometimes opens and divulges a ghastly secret from its narrow depths. There was no chance of getting anything out of Mr. Brimsdown, dead or alive. He had no wife to extract bedroom confidences from him, no relations to visit in expansive moments, he trusted nothing to paper or diary, and he did not play golf.
"I was merely going to say that your brother would have given you the proofs of this statement about his marriage if he had meditated self-destruction," Mr. Brimsdown observed. "The proofs must be in existence, of course, but I do not think that they are at Flint House. Did your brother confide the information to you beforehand before his public announcement, I mean?"
Brimsdown, sitting stiffly upright, his eyes fixed on a portrait of Royalty glimmering inanely down at them through a dirty glass frame on the opposite wall, listened with unmoved front. Yet the story had its surprises, even for him. Not the least of them was the fact that Mrs.
Brimsdown stood regarding this distracting spectacle from the outside, he saw one of the ticket collectors grasp the arm of a girl who was just emerging, at the same time shutting the gate on a stout woman following, thus effectually blocking the egress of those behind. The girl turned quickly at the touch of the detaining hand, and there was fear in her face.
Brimsdown hesitated, then, reflecting that he had probably misinterpreted a chance movement on the part of a perfect stranger, went towards the door, which the maid was holding open for him.
That brought the lawyer back to the position that some foreboding or warning of his murder had caused Robert Turold to summon him to Cornwall by letter. The next step of his investigations led Mr. Brimsdown to the dead man's study, where that frantic appeal had been penned. He engaged a vehicle at the hotel and drove over to Flint House in the afternoon. The impression of that visit remained.
Now I'll tell you something about him." Again his thumb indicated the next room. "It was the night after." "Do you mean the night after he met his death?" "Yes. Some one was upstairs in his room in this room." Mr. Brimsdown gave a startled glance around him, as though seeking a lurking form in the shadows. "Here?" he breathed. "Here, sure enough.
Word Of The Day