Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 21, 2025
"Suarez is in Holloway, awaiting extradition. But I owed you one for the rise you took out of me to-day." A bell sounded, and Peters came in. He glanced around. "Where's Furneaux?" he demanded. "Gone to London. Why this keen interest?" said Winter. "There's something up. Elkin dropped in at the Hare and Hounds. He was simply bursting with curiosity, and had to talk to somebody. So he chose me."
I'll send a boy early to-morrow morning with a first-rate tonic, and you might give him any old medicine bottles you possess. I'm running short." Elkin hesitated a second or two. "I'll tell my housekeeper to look 'em up," he said. After the inquest he communicated this episode to Furneaux as a great joke. "Queer, isn't it?" he guffawed.
It mattered a great deal. Robinson could testify that Elkin did not cross Steynholme bridge "soon after eleven." "Nothing much," was the answer. "You see, I'm anxious to find out who might be stirring at that hour, an' you know everybody for miles around. I'd like to fix your journey by the clock, if I could." "Dash it all, man, I was full to the eyes. There! You have it straight."
The policeman, however, was flustered. His thoughts ran on Elkin, whereas this masterful person from London insisted on discussing Doris Martin. "My difficulty is, sir, that she has never kep' company with any of 'em," he said. "Never mind. Give me the name of every man who, no matter what his position or prospects, might be irritated, if no more, if he knew that Miss Martin and Mr.
"Well, we don't seem to get any forrarder," he said. "You ought to take more care of your health, Mr. Elkin. You're a changed man these days." "I'll be all right when this murder is off our chests, Robinson. You won't have a tiddley? Right-o! So long!" Robinson walked slowly toward Steynholme.
"Nice lot of pictures, those," he said cheerfully, when the frightened maid, much to her relief, had been told to bring another cup and a fresh supply of toast. "Are they?" Elkin had taken them and some kitchen furniture for a bad debt. "Yes. Will you sell them?" "Well, I haven't thought about it. What'll you give?" Furneaux hesitated.
Elkin, the bank-manager from Norcaster. He had come over in a motor-car, to see me privately. He wanted to tell me in relation to all these things that within the last few days, the Squire and Peter Chatfield had withdrawn from the bank the very large balances of two separate accounts. One was the Squire's own account, in his name the other was an estate account, on which Chatfield could draw.
Elkin had returned when the detective reached the house, a somewhat pretentious place, half farm, half villa, and altogether horsey. The entrance hall bristled with fox masks and brushes. A useful collection of burnished bits and snaffles hung on a side wall.
Elkin really hint that I needed him as a shield?" Doris was genuinely angry now. She little imagined that Winter was playing on her emotions with a master hand. "Don't waste any wrath on Elkin," he soothed her. "The fellow isn't worth it. But his crude idea might be developed more subtly by an abler man." "I think it odd that Mr.
But they heard nothing of gold or of fugitives or of what the police and detectives were doing until the middle of the afternoon. And then Mr. Elkin, the manager of the bank from which Chatfield had withdrawn the estate and the private balance, came hurrying to the "Angel" and to Mrs. Greyle, his usually rubicund face pale with emotion, his hand waving a scrap of crumpled paper. Mrs.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking