United States or Turks and Caicos Islands ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
I know, too, that you sketched her, because I saw the canvas a moment ago an oil, not a water color. These things may or may not be relevant to an inquiry into a crime, but they will certainly loom large in the public mind if the police have to explain why they needed a warrant to search your apartments." Furneaux had gauged the artistic temperament accurately.
"Can I offer you a glass of beer, sir?" "With pleasure. May I smoke while you eat? You see, I differ from Mr. Furneaux in both size and habits." Robinson poured out the beer. He was preternaturally grave. The somewhat incriminating statements he had wormed out of the horse-dealer that afternoon lay heavy upon him. But he told his story succinctly enough.
"That's all, gentlemen, or practically all. It struck me as unusual, but Dr. Stern said Mr. Hilton's motor was out o' gear, an' he wanted a car in a desp'rit hurry." "He did, indeed!" growled Furneaux. "You're quite sure there is no mistake?" "Mistake, sir? How could there be? The doctor was walkin' home. That's an unusual thing. He never walks a yard if he can help it. Mr.
On the way the artist supplied sufficient details of his two meetings with Sylvia to put them in possession of the main incidents. Furneaux, though suffering from a splitting headache, had recovered the use of a vinegary tongue. "I was mistaken in you," he chuckled. "You're a rank impressionist.
When I, Furneaux, of the 'Yard, lay down a first principle in the investigation of crime, I expect deference on your part. I tell you unhesitatingly that if Doris Martin didn't exist, Adelaide Melhuish would be alive now. That, as a thesis, is nearly as certain a thing as that the sun will rise to-morrow.
"Are there other members of the family?" "An invalid wife, never away from The Towers; and a young lady, Miss Sylvia Manning a ward, and worth a pile. By the way, she's twenty. Mortimer Fenley, had he lived, was appointed her guardian and trustee till she reached twenty-one." "Twenty!" mused Winter. "Yes, twice ten," snapped Furneaux. "And Fenley has cut a figure in the City for twenty years."
Furneaux, watching the faces of prisoner and questioners, guessed that small progress was being made, so, waiting until Len Shi was evidently quite satisfied with himself, he suddenly thrust an ivory skull before the man's eyes. The result was unexpected but puzzling. The man was badly scared, beyond doubt, but he now became obstinately silent.
"This petty larceny," Captain Furneaux remarks, "probably laid the foundation of that dreadful catastrophe which soon after happened," and which he thus describes: "On Friday, the 17th, we sent out our large cutter, manned with seven seamen, under the command of Mr. John Rowe, the first mate, accompanied by Mr. Woodhouse, midshipman, and James Tobias Swilley, the carpenter's servant.
And Furneaux climbed into the cart, holding the pictures so that they would not rattle, and perhaps loosen the old gilded frames.
"He actually had the impertinence to ask Miss Manning to meet him, no doubt offering some plausible yarn as an excuse. I hope you'll test his story thoroughly, Mr. Winter. At the least, he should be forced to say what he was doing in these grounds at such an unusual hour." "He is putting himself right with Miss Manning now," broke in Furneaux. "Putting himself right with Miss Manning?
Word Of The Day