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Updated: May 23, 2025
Comstock was a Harmstead by birth, and Uncle Phil was her father's only brother the Harmsteads had never been well to-do as a family: indeed none of them but dear old Uncle Phil ever had a hundred pounds they could call their own, so when Miss Harmstead's father died, which was about eight months after his brother left New Zealand and went to Australia, she married a young joiner and cabinet-maker, George Comstock, to whom she had long been engaged, and a few weeks later, fancying there would be a better chance for advancement in his trade in England than out there, Mr.
Harmstead straightened suddenly and flung a look of blank amazement across the room; and the Captain, twitching away from the man who gripped him, went first deathly white and then red as any beet. "Good God!" he gulped. "You I Look here, I say now, what does this mean? What the dickens are you talking about?" "Bluff, Captain! Simply 'bluff'!" responded Cleek serenely.
Harmstead will swear that he never let the little fellow out of his arms for one solitary instant between the time of our leaving him just after midnight, and Miss Comstock's coming in in the morning.
"And then what, Captain?" "What I have already told you, Mr. Cleek. Nothing under God's heaven would or could persuade Mr. Harmstead to let his nieces and their two surviving brothers remain another hour in that house of disaster.
Harmstead to stop in it another hour after the second murder occurred." "Mr. Harmstead! Who is Mr. Harmstead, Captain?" "The late Mrs. Comstock's bachelor uncle a very rich old chap, who was once a sheep-farmer in New Zealand, and afterwards in Australia. Mrs.
Did anything happen?" "Yes," replied the Captain, his voice dropping until it was little more than a whisper. "I tried to cheer them; Miss Lorne tried to cheer them. We sat with them, tried to make them think that our presence there would act as a shield and a guard and tried to think so ourselves. But old Mr. Harmstead took even stronger measures.
Harmstead, let me help you to rise," he began; then stopped as the old man put up a knotted and twisted hand in supplication and protested agitatedly: "But but, sir, I do not want to go. Good Heaven! What can you be hinting against that poor, dear boy? Surely you do not mean you cannot mean " "That the little game of 'Bluff' has worked, Dr.
Harmstead not only closed, but locked, both of the two windows in the room, and pinned the thick plushette curtains of them together as Miss Comstock and I saw them pinned when we left the room last night when those curtains came to be drawn this morning one of the windows was found to be partly open, and there was a smear of something that looked like grease across the sill and the stone coping beyond."
Philip Harmstead is in his grave; that he was attended in his last illness by one Dr. Frederick Finch, to whom his fortune would revert in the event of Mrs. Comstock and her children dying. Finch is the fellow's name isn't it, doctor, eh?" "Finch?" repeated the Captain. "Good Heaven! Why that was the name of the woman who was old Mr.
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