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Of course there is some probability that a full and true account of the conversation between man and maid as they walked the half mile to Jackson's farm might throw a flood of light on this minor problem. Be that as it may, stern necessity demands that the chronicle should revert for a time to the sayings and doings of the Fenleys and the detectives.
He realized that these Fenleys were queer folk. Like the Pharisee, "they were not as other men," but whether the difference between them and the ordinary mortal arose from pride or folly or fear it was hard to say. Hilton Fenley smiled wanly. "Bob is adopting the supposed tactics of the ostrich when pursued," he said. "But no one is pursuing him." "I am speaking metaphorically, of course.
Trenholme, of course, was surprised, since he was paying the man a rare compliment; he had expressed in the inn his full and free opinion concerning all money grubbers, and the Fenley species thereof in particular; whereupon the stout Eliza, who classed the Fenley family as "rubbish," informed him that there was a right of way through the park, and that from a certain point near a lake he could sketch the grand old manor house to his heart's content, let the Fenleys and their keepers scowl as they chose.
There is much in common between the clatter of an alarm clock and the suffragist cause, but all the ladies promised not to endanger life, you know." "Anyhow, Mr. Fenley is dead as a doornail," said Eliza firmly. "Too bad. I take back all the hard things I said about him, and I'm sure you do the same." "Me!" "Yes. Didn't you say all the Fenleys were rubbish?
Their friends were business associates and they seem to own no relatives; while Miss Manning, if ever she possessed any, has been carefully shut away from them. The position of affairs in The Towers will be strained tomorrow. The elder Fenleys are dead; one son may be in jail or, if he isn't, might as well be and the other, as soon as he feels his feet, will be giving himself airs.
A neurotic imagination was at work, and that cry of horror was the soul's unconscious protest against the very fiendishness of its own deed.... "Oh, yes. Let these Fenleys quarrel about that girl, and we'll see Hilton marching steadily toward the Old Bailey. Of course, we'll assist him. We'll make certain he doesn't deviate or falter on the road.
Winter produced a big cigar, and Trenholme felt in his pockets for pipe and tobacco. "No, you don't, young man," said the big man firmly. "You're going straight to your room in the White Horse. And I'll tell you why. From what I have heard about the Fenleys, they were a lonely crowd.
He differed essentially from the Fenleys, greatly as the brothers themselves differed. Without conscious effort to please, he had qualities that appealed strongly to women, and Sylvia knew now that no consideration would induce her to marry either of her "cousins." If asked to put her thought into words, she would have boggled at the task, for intuition is not to be defined in set speech.
"We must set the Fenleys at each other's throats." "Yes," mused Winter aloud, when a ris de veau bonne maman had passed like a dream, "this affair is becoming decidedly interesting. But every why hath a wherefore, according to Shakespeare. Tell me" and his voice sank to a whisper "tell me why you believe Hilton Fenley killed his father." "You nosed your way into that problem this afternoon.
And it will do Miss Sylvia Manning some good if she is made to see that there are others than Fenleys in the world. So, have at him!" While going downstairs, the detective became aware of some sniffing in the back passage. Eliza red-eyed now from distress, stood there, dabbing her cheeks with a corner of her apron.
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