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Updated: May 11, 2025
"Stick to your own game, my lad, and when you want to grow roses, do it in your own back yard for pleasure. And here we are and you'd best wait, Chettle, until Miss Lennard herself gives a receipt for this stuff, and then you can take it back to Scotland Yard and frame it." He left Chettle in an anti-room of Miss Lennard's flat while he himself was shown into the prima donna's presence.
James Allerdyke had been doing business for a couple of years, and that they'd last met in London about the end of March, just before your cousin set off on his journey to Russia. Is that correct?" "Quite correct to the letter," answered Allerdyke. "Very well," said Chettle. "Now, according to you, that 'ud be not so very long after you took that snapshot of your cousin?
He had been strolling about the bedroom up to that moment, but now he drew a chair to the table at which Chettle sat and dropped into it close beside his visitor. "I'll tell you all about it," he went on. "You said at Hull yesterday that you'd always found Yorkshiremen sharp and shrewd well, this is a bit more Yorkshire work work of my manager here in town Mr. Appleyard. Listen!"
When Chettle had gone, Allerdyke closed the door on him and turned to his manager with a knowing look. "That chap's right, you know, Ambler," he said. "A false move, a too hasty step'll ruin everything. If that woman's startled if she gets a suspicion egad, it's all mixed up about as badly as can be! Now, about these Gaffneys?" "Wait a while," said Appleyard.
"Chettle and I," he said, "have, in the presence of the manager and manageress of the Pompadour, made a thorough examination of the room and the belongings of the young lady who resides there under the name of Miss Slade. There is not a jot or tittle of anything there to show that she is also Mrs. Marlow except one thing. That, Mr.
Their information ran to this that the actual murderer has an appointment with some of his associates this afternoon at that tea-house in Hyde Park, and that if the City police would send some plain-clothes men up there he'll be pointed out. So the City lot want us to join them, and I was sent along to meet you here, sir I've brought those two men and of course there's Chettle.
As he walked into the Waldorf the hall-porter stopped him. "There's a gentleman for you, sir, in the waiting-room," he said. "Been waiting a good hour. Name of Chettle." Chettle sat alone in the waiting-room, a monument of patient resignation to his fate.
"Much obliged, Mr. Allerdyke," replied Chettle. "I'll come." Then Allerdyke went off to the General Post Office and sent a telegram to his housekeeper in Bradford "Send off at once by registered parcel post to me at Waldorf Hotel, London, the morocco-bound photograph album lying on right-hand corner of my writing-desk in the library. He went out of the post-office laughing cynically.
You go and tell what you know of your own knowledge," he went on, turning to Chettle. "Leave me clean out for the time being. I'll come in at the right moment. Say naught about me or of what I've told you. And if you're sent back to Hull, just contrive to see me before you go. And, as Mr. Appleyard says, I'll see you're all right, anyhow."
Marlow as Fullaway's secretary and here at his rooms and on his business; where she lives she's Miss Slade. Eh?" Chettle pricked his ears. "When did you find that out?" he asked. "Since you left me this morning?" "Found it out this afternoon," replied Allerdyke, with something of triumph.
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