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Updated: May 27, 2025
Hamel, however, still refused to take the hint. His eyes were fixed upon that closed door. "Mr. Fentolin," he asked, "have you any objection to my seeing Mr. Dunster?" There was a moment's intense silence. A sudden light had burned in Mr. Fentolin's eyes. His fingers gripped the side of his chair. Yet when he spoke there were no signs of anger in his tone.
"I am an M.D. of London," the doctor replied. "You can make yourself quite easy as to my qualifications. It would not suit Mr. Fentolin's purpose to entrust himself to the care of any one without a reputation." He left the room, and Mr. Dunster closed his eyes. His slumbers, however, were not altogether peaceful ones.
The good woman is obsessed by the idea that her husband and sons are still calling to her from the Dagger Rocks. It is almost pitiful to meet her wandering about there on a stormy night. The seacoasts are full of these little village tragedies real tragedies, too, however insignificant they may seem to us." Mr. Fentolin's tone was gently sympathetic.
"She was very kind," he said, "but there are really grave reasons why I feel that I must not accept Mr. Fentolin's hospitality any longer. I had," he went on, "a very interesting talk with your mother." She turned quickly towards him. The slightest possible tinge of additional colour was in her cheeks. She was walking on the top of a green bank, with the wind blowing her skirts around her.
Neither Gerald nor his servant moved. Somehow, the sense of Mr. Fentolin's suppressed excitement seemed to have become communicated to them. It was a little tableau, broken at last by Mr. Fentolin himself. "I should like," he said, turning to Gerald, "to be alone. It may interest you to know that this document which Mr.
Both Meekins and Doctor Sarson, however, were intent upon the task of steering Mr. Fentolin's little carriage down below. They placed the wheels in the two grooves, and Meekins secured the carriage with a rope which he let run through his fingers.
Meekins, who had gone on towards the door, suddenly called out: "Some one has taken away the key! The door is locked on the other side!" Mr. Fentolin's frown was malign even for him. "Our dear friend, Mr. Hamel, I suppose," he muttered. "Another little debt we shall owe him! Try the other door." Meekins moved towards the partition. Suddenly he paused. Mr.
He turned on the small electric reading-lamp and drew up a chair to the side of the telephone. Even as he lifted the receiver to his ear, he looked around him half apprehensively. It seemed as though every moment he would hear the click of Mr. Fentolin's chair. He got the exchange at Norwich without difficulty, and a few minutes later a sleepy reply came from the number he had rung up in London.
I wish you to understand one thing. You have, I believe, in my employ learned the gift of silence. It is to be exercised with regard to a certain visitor brought here by my nephew, a visitor whom I regret to say is now lying seriously ill." There was absolute silence. Doctor Sarson alone turned from the window as though about to speak, but met Mr. Fentolin's eye and at once resumed his position.
"Melodramatic, almost dramatic, but, alas! so inaccurate," Mr. Fentolin sighed. "Is this a fit of the heroics, boy, or what has come over you? Have you by any chance forgotten?" Mr. Fentolin's voice seemed suddenly to have grown in volume. His eyes dilated, he himself seemed to have grown in size. Gerald stepped a little back. He was trembling, but his expression had not changed.
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