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Updated: June 7, 2025
Hollyer. Have you any idea whether Mrs. Creake has real ground for it?" "I should have told you that," replied Lieutenant Hollyer. "I happened to strike up with a newspaper man whose office is in the same block as Creake's. When I mentioned the name he grinned. 'Creake, he said, 'oh, he's the man with the romantic typist, isn't he? 'Well, he's my brother-in-law, I replied.
"He is less likely to try poison than some other means now," pondered Carrados. "That having failed, his wife will always be on her guard. He may know, or at least suspect, that others know. No. ... The common-sense precaution would be for your sister to leave the man, Mr. Hollyer. She will not?" "No," admitted Hollyer, "she will not. I at once urged that."
This storm, the opportunity for which he has been waiting for weeks, is merely the cloak to his act. The weapon which he has planned to use scarcely less powerful than lightning but much more tractable is the high voltage current of electricity that flows along the tram wire at his gate." "Oh!" exclaimed Lieutenant Hollyer, as the sudden revelation struck him.
I have cut the wire but you had better put it on. Stand just for a moment at the window, move the catch so that it can blow open a little, and drop immediately. Now." Another stone had rattled against the glass. For Hollyer to go through his part was the work merely of seconds, and with a few touches Carrados spread the dressing-gown to more effective disguise about the extended form.
"This is sudden; Hollyer knew nothing of their leaving," remarked Mr. Carlyle. "Probably not for three months yet. All the same, Louis, we will go on to the agents and get a card to view whether we use it to-day or not." A thick hedge, in its summer dress effectively screening the house beyond from public view, lay between the garden and the road.
F. Hollyer of 9 Pembroke Square, Kensington, to let you have prints of Lord Lawrence and Mr. Peabody. On the other side of the sheet I send the permission you require." "MONKSHATCH, GUILDFORD, SURREY. December 4, 1889. "MY DEAR SIR, I have just seen the December number of the 'Magazine of Art, in which I find an engraving of my portrait of Peabody.
It was a time to quicken the steadiest pulse, and when the crucial moment came, when a pebble suddenly rang against the pane with a sound that the tense waiting magnified into a shivering crash, Hollyer leapt from the bed on the instant. "Easy, easy," warned Carrados feelingly. "We will wait for another knock." He passed something across. "Here is a rubber glove.
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