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Updated: February 4, 2025
At the table, whereon were spread a number of documents, sat a lean, clean-shaven, sallow-faced man, wearing gold-rimmed pince-nez; a man whose demeanor of business-like gloom was most admirably adapted to that place and occasion. This was Mr. Debnam, the solicitor. He gravely waved the detective to an armchair, adjusted his pince-nez, and coughed, introductorily.
His servants, even, are got safely out of the way for the evening"... "Quite so," said Dunbar, shortly, "quite so, Mr. Debnam." He opened the door. "Might I see the late Mrs. Vernon's maid?" "She is at her home. As I told you, Mrs. Vernon habitually released her for the period of these absences." The notebook reappeared. "The young woman's address?" "You can get it from the housekeeper.
"You see," continued Debnam, "the late Mrs. Vernon was not actually residing with her husband at the date of his death." "Indeed!" "Ostensibly" the solicitor shook a lean forefinger at his vis-a-vis "ostensibly, Inspector, she was visiting her sister in Scotland." Inspector Dunbar sat up very straight, his brows drawn down over the tawny eyes.
Neither of them can hope to prove his case." "If either of them could?"... "It might make a difference to the evidence but I'm not sure." "What time is your appointment?" "Ten o'clock," replied Dunbar. "I am meeting Mr. Debnam the late Mr. Vernon's solicitor. There is something in it. Damme! I am sure of it!" "Something in what?" "The fact that Mr.
Debnam the late Horace Vernon's solicitor placed an absurd construction upon this"... "Do you mean," interrupted Helen in a strained voice, "that he insinuated that Mrs. Vernon"... "He had an idea that she visited Leroux yes," replied her father hastily.
"Just let me glance over your notes, bearing on the matter," said Sowerby, "and I'll be off." Dunbar handed him the bulging notebook, and Sergeant Sowerby lowered his inadequate eyebrows, thoughtfully, whilst he scanned the evidence of Mr. Debnam. Then, returning the book to his superior, and adjusting the peculiar bowler firmly upon his head, he set out.
A temporary block in the traffic compelled the driver of the car, whom my client described to me as an Asiatic to pull up for a moment. There, within a few yards of her husband, Mrs. Vernon reclined in the car or rather in the arms of a male companion!" "What!" "Positively!" Mr. Debnam was sedately enjoying himself. "Positively, my dear Inspector, in the arms of a man of extremely dark complexion.
Cumberly, the Harley Street physician. She lives with her father in the flat above that of Mr. Leroux. She saw the body by accident and recognized it as that of a lady who had been named to her at the last Arts Ball." "Ah!" said Debnam, "yes I see at the Arts Ball, Inspector. This is a mysterious and a very ghastly case." "It is indeed, sir," agreed Dunbar.
"Exactly; three days before the death of my client." Mr. Debnam wagged his finger at the inspector again. "I maintain," he said, "that this painful discovery, which I am about to mention, precipitated my client's end; although it is a fact that there was hereditary heart trouble. He paused to give dramatic point to the revelation.
"To put the whole thing quite bluntly, Mr. Debnam," said Dunbar, fixing his tawny eyes upon the solicitor, "Mr. Vernon was thoroughly glad to get rid of her for a week?" Mr. Debnam shifted uneasily in his chair; the truculent directness of the detective was unpleasing to his tortuous mind. However:
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