Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 14, 2025
The principal bank in the city was also represented in the company of investigators. Likewise there was a laconic gentleman from the British office. Mr. Medcroft was out. Then, they agreed, it was necessary to see Mrs. Medcroft, or the lady representing herself to be such. Mr. Githens was permitted to go to her rooms in company with the manager of the hotel.
It was very clearly set forth in the letter that Roxbury Medcroft was in London, and that Mr. Githens, of Scotland Yard, had betrayed his trust. He was virtually charged with playing into the hands of the enemy, "selling out," as it were. It readily may be expected that Mr. Githens was accused of being in the employ of the "opposition."
Brock was solemnly ushered through the public office by Mr. Odell-Carney and Freddie Ulstervelt. It is not stretching the truth to say that they were sour and sullen, but, as may be suspected, from peculiarly different causes. At last all were congregated in the stuffy office, very much subdued and very much at odds with each other. Mr. Githens was there.
B., and these officers, acting for the hotel and the State Bank, have been instructed to detain you pending an investigation." Mr. Githens was vindicating himself. He may have been a trifle disconcerted by Miss Fowler's musical laugh and Brock's plain guffaw, but he managed to preserve a stiff dignity. "It's no laughing matter. Officers, this is your man. Take him in charge.
It seems that Githens had gone first to the big hostelry in quest of light on the very puzzling dilemma in which he found himself involved. Inquiries at the office only served to stir up a grave commotion among the clerks and managers, all of whom vociferously maintained that the hotel was entirely blameless if any deception had been practised.
"My name is Githens, Scotland Yard. These men have an order for your arrest. I'd advise you to go with them peaceably. The young woman will not be bothered. She is free to go." "What are you talking about?" demanded Brock angrily. Suddenly he felt a chill of misgiving. What had Roxbury Medcroft been doing that he should be subject to arrest?
The telegram had said: "Why do you say M. is there? He is in London. Explain. Letter to-morrow." The letter had come, and Mr. Githens, as well as the local police office, was "bowled over," to express it in Scotland Yard English. He had wired his employers that "M. is still in Innsbruck. Cannot be in London."
"What has the American government to do with it?" gruffly demanded Mr. Githens. "Mr. Mr. the gentleman whom you accuse is an American citizen!" she stammered. "Oho! Then he is not an Englishman?" "I refuse to answer your questions. You are impertinent. I ask you, sir, as the manager of this hotel, to eject this man from my rooms." The manager smiled blandly and did not eject the man.
The bank and the police were profuse in apologies and explanations, and Mr. Githens departed by the first train. Freddie Ulstervelt, killing two birds with one stone, arranged a splendid dinner for that night in honour of the prodigal husband of Edith and also in open compliment to the vivacious Mademoiselle Le Brun.
Then, I should advise you to have a talk with Mrs. Medcroft. You've invited her to the house, you know. Tell her there can't be two Medcrofts. See wot I mean? We'll see 'em through this, but well, you understand." Meantime a telegram had preceded a lengthy letter into the department of the police, both directed to Herr Bauer, who in reality was James Githens, of Scotland Yard.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking