Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 18, 2025
A smart youth interposed a printed formula between the visitor and a door marked "Private." Furneaux wrote his name, and put "Steynholme" in the space reserved for "business." He was admitted at once. Mr. Ingerman, apparently, was immersed in a pile of letters, but he swept them all aside, and greeted the caller affably. "Glad to see you, Mr. Furneaux," he said.
Did you travel by the two o'clock train yesterday?" "Yes. I avoided you purposely." "May I ask, why?" "My mind was weary. I wanted my wits about me when I tackled you." Ingerman smiled, and leaned back, resting both elbows on the arms of the chair, and bringing the tips of his fingers together. "Proceed," he said.
They were wide open in wonderment. "About his attitude to this tragedy. Do this, and you will be giving Mr. Grant the greatest possible help. He needs it. Next Wednesday, at the adjourned inquest, he will be put on the rack. Ingerman will fee counsel to be vindictive, merciless. Such men are to be hired. Their reputation is built up on the slaughter of reputations.
"We're pretty sure of our man, but we haven't a scrap of evidence against him. How, or where, to begin ringing him in I haven't the faintest notion. If only he'd kill Grant we'd get him at once." "But he won't. He trusts to Ingerman playing that part of the game. He's as artful as a pet fox. I bought soap, and a pound of sal volatile, but he did up each parcel with sealing-wax."
At eleven o'clock there was a somewhat unnecessary display of nodding plumes and long-tailed black horses at the removal of the coffin to the railway station. For some reason, the funeral arrangements had not been bruited about until Elkin made that envenomed attack on Grant in the Hare and Hounds the previous night. Ingerman had sent a gorgeous wreath, the only one forthcoming locally.
When the door closed on Furneaux, Ingerman smiled. "I've given that little Frenchman furiously to think," he murmured. But the "little Frenchman" was smiling, too. He had elaborated the scheme already discussed with Winter. It was much to his liking, though unorthodox, rather crack-brained, more than risky, and altogether opposed to the instructions of the Police Manual.
Grant?" he inquired. The voice was astonishingly soft and pleasant, and the accent agreeably refined. Evidently, there were surprising points about Mr. Ingerman. Long afterwards, Grant learned, by chance, that the man had been an actor before branching off into that mysterious cosmopolitan profession known as "a financier." "No," said Grant. "I have heard it very few times.
"Skipping good." On the next page: "Isidor G. Ingerman. Useful. Inquire." "E.'s boasts? Nonsensical, surely!" "Why has D. gone?" Both men paused at that line. "Detective?" suggested Winter. "That's how I take it," agreed Furneaux. Then came a sign: "+10%." "Elkin's mixture was not 'as before. It was fortified," grinned Furneaux. "That's the exact increase of nicotine. By the way, I have a sample.
"Death comes to all of us, man an' beast alike, but it's a terrible thing when a lady like Miss Mrs. "Ingerman is my name, but my wife will certainly be alluded to by the press as Miss Melhuish." "When a lady like Miss Melhuish is knocked on the 'ead like a " Mr. Hobbs hesitated again. He also felt that the situation was rather beyond him.
What the blazes has Cornhill to do with the murder at The Hollies?" Ingerman appreciated the value of that concluding phrase. Elkin had used it once before in Siddle's shop, and was quietly reproved by the chemist for his outspokenness. Ingerman, however, did not inform the company that his office lay in an alley off Cornhill. He elected to rub in Elkin's words. "Mr.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking