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Updated: May 19, 2025
I looked away, the vision of Mr. Fobbs, in hiding behind the curtains of the opposite house, recurring painfully to my mind. "If the affair looks as bad as you say it does," she pursued, "it is scarcely probable that Mr. Gryce will care much for any interpretation of mine in regard to the matter." "Mr.
Somewhat alarmed, I was about to hurry from the house for the purpose of learning what his intentions were, when a sudden movement in the front lower window of the house on the opposite side of the way arrested my attention, and, looking closer, I detected the face of Mr. Fobbs peering out from behind the curtain. The sight assured me I was not wrong in my estimate of Mr.
"Another result of Fobbs' researches under the coal on the first day of the inquest," Mr. Gryce abruptly explained. "You thought the key was all he found. Well, it wasn't. A second turning over of the coal brought these to light, and very interesting they are, too." I immediately bent over the torn and discolored scraps with great anxiety.
When he got that far, the colonel started to his feet and sternly summoned the waiter. "Ask Major Fobbs to call at my table as soon as he can." The waiter obeyed, and Major Fobbs followed him back to the colonel's table. "Major," said the colonel, "will you please spell those words?" "T-u-r-k-i-s-h b-a-t-h, Turkish bath," read the major. "Thank heaven, I am still rational!" said the colonel.
"Well, first, because Fobbs does not speak of seeing any paper in her hand, when she bent over the fire; leaving us to conclude that these pieces were in the scuttle of coal she threw upon it; which surely you must acknowledge to be a strange place for her to have put a paper she took such pains to gain possession of; and, secondly, for the reason that these scraps were twisted as if they had been used for curl papers, or something of that kind; a fact hard to explain by your hypothesis."
Gryce turned towards us. "Mr. Raymond, will you be kind enough to step this way?" Glad to escape from my present position, I hastily obeyed. "What has happened?" I asked. "We propose to take you into our confidence," was the easy response. "Mr. Raymond, Mr. Fobbs." I bowed to the man I saw before me, and stood uneasily waiting.
"I hope they will never disappoint you." I had no reply for this, and a short silence ensued, first broken by Mr. Gryce. "There is but one thing left to do," said he. "Fobbs, you will have to request Miss Leavenworth to come down. Do not alarm her; only see that she comes. To the reception room," he added, as the man drew off.
Anxious as I was to know what we really had to fear, I still intuitively shrank from any communication with one whom I looked upon as a spy. "A matter of some importance," resumed the detective. "It is not necessary for me to remind you that it is in confidence, is it?" "No." "I thought not. Mr. Fobbs you may proceed." Instantly the whole appearance of the man Fobbs changed.
"Where is he?" "Bring him down, or I'll go up after him!" "What does he mean by it?" "Insult a respectable lady!" "Let me catch him, that's all!" "Where has he gone?" "I'll send him a challenge by Fobbs!" "Where's his wife?" This was what Mr. Grapewine, listening at the top of the stairs, heard in a confused tumult in his parlor. He could not understand it.
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