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Updated: May 18, 2025
Bailey, tenant of the house, gentlemen," said the sergeant, introducing him with mock politeness. Fetherston glanced up, and to his surprise saw standing in the doorway a man he had known, and whose movements he had so closely followed the man who had gone to Monte Carlo for instructions, and perhaps payment the man who had passed as Monsieur Granier!
Upon the steps stood four men in thick overcoats, all of whom Walter instantly recognised. With Trendall stood Sir Hugh Elcombe, while their companions were two detective-inspectors from Scotland Yard. "Hallo! Fetherston!" gasped Trendall. "I I expected to find Weirmarsh here! What has happened?" "The doctor is already here," was the other's quick reply.
It was "the religious aspect of the case," as Miss Coppinger complained to Mr. Fetherston, that made it so impossible for her to speak her mind to Larry about the Mangans. "Do you remember you advised us to send him to Oxford?" she reproached him. "I'm afraid it has only had the effect of making him take his religion more seriously for which, I suppose, one ought to be thankful "
As he uttered these words the handle of the door turned, and Lady Elcombe, warmly clad in furs, came forward to greet the novelist. "I'm so glad that I returned before you left, Mr. Fetherston," she exclaimed. "We've been to a most dreary play; and I'm simply dying for some tea. Enid, ring the bell, dear, will you?" Then continuing, she added in warm enthusiasm: "Really, Mr.
If they have, I'm awfully glad, for I hate that man!" "Did you overhear them?" asked Fetherston anxiously, apprehensive lest an open quarrel had actually taken place. He knew well that Josef Blot, alias Weirmarsh, was not a man to be trifled with. If Sir Hugh had served his purpose, as he no doubt had, then he would be betrayed to the police without compunction, just as others had been.
"If this man, Fetherston, has discovered the truth, as I fear he has done," the hard-faced man muttered to himself, "then by his action to-day he has sealed his own doom! and Enid Orlebar herself will silence him!" THREE days had elapsed.
It was of this he was thinking more than of the merits of mountain batteries or the difficulties of limbering or unlimbering. "See! there they are!" exclaimed the general, suddenly pointing with his gloved hand. Fetherston strained his eyes towards the horizon, but declared that he could detect nothing.
His curious hatred of his own popularity was to everyone a mystery. His intimate friends, of whom Fred Tredennick was one, had whispered that, in order to efface his identity, he was known in certain circles abroad by the name of Maltwood. This was quite true. In London he was a member of White's and the Devonshire as Fetherston.
Fetherston afterwards left the small assembly and made examination of some bedrooms he had not yet inspected. In three of these, the locks of which he broke open, he discovered quantities of interesting papers, together with another mysterious-looking press.
She had grasped Fetherston's hand convulsively, but at Weirmarsh's threat she had released her hold and was standing in the hall, pale, rigid and staring. "Summers," exclaimed Fetherston, turning to his companion, "you know this person, eh?" "Yes, sir, I should rather think I do," replied the man, with a grin. "Well, detain him for the present, and take your instructions from London."
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