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Updated: June 22, 2025
Like I say, they knew the car, and they knew Jarrett collects guns, and the lights were on inside the shop and the shades were drawn, so they didn't think anything of it, at the time. See, they went to bed about ten this morning, and didn't get up till after five, so I didn't find out about it till after supper." Rand shrugged, and managed to get some of the shrug into his voice.
Lord Bryce, The Holy Roman Empire. Macmillan. A.J. and R.W. Carlyle, Mediaeval Political Theory in the West. W. Blackwood. Williams & Norgate. Bede Jarrett; Socialist Theories in the Middle Ages. T.C. and E.C. Jack. E. Jenks, Law and Politics in the Middle Ages. Murray. F.W. Maitland, Political Theories of the Middle Ages, translated from Gierke's Das Deutsche Genossenschaftsrecht. Maitland.
"I got a call from Pierre Jarrett; Tip's staying at the Jarrett place tonight. I thought it would be a good idea to have him within reach for a while." The private outside phone rang shrilly. Ritter let it go for several rings, then picked it up. "This is the Fleming residence," he stated, putting on his character again. "Oh, yes indeed, sir.
Behind the first carriage was another heavier one, with only one horse and no lamp. There was room for five or six persons to crowd into this. We were ten in all. Jarrett, Abbey, my sister, and I took our places in the first one, leaving the others to get into the second. We looked like a band of conspirators.
The guard had fired a revolver in order to attract every one's attention, and Jarrett, Abbey, and the artistes hurried out into the narrow corridor. I found myself in the midst of them, and to our stupefaction we saw the two guards dragging out from underneath my compartment a man armed to the teeth. With a revolver held to his temple on either side, he decided to confess the truth of the matter.
"Your father retained me to make an investigation," he said. "After that trouble he had with Rivers about that spurious North & Cheney, he wanted the murderer caught before somebody got around to accusing him." "You mean there's a chance Dad might be suspected?" Dot was scared. Rand nodded. The girl was beginning to look suspiciously at Karen and Mrs. Jarrett.
I strongly suspected that Jarrett had found a way of administering to him some violent kind of medicine which had stopped his journeying for the time. I felt sure of this, as the ferocious gentleman laughed so heartily en route, but anyhow I was infinitely grateful to him for ridding me of the man for the present. At last we arrived at Montreal.
"There's a perfect hell of a mess," he whispered. "Somebody murdered Arnold Rivers last night." She looked at him in horror. "Murdered? Who was it? How did it...?" "I haven't time to talk about that right now," he told her. "Stephen Gresham and Pierre Jarrett are on their way here, and I'd like you to keep the servants, and particularly Walters, out of earshot of the gunroom while they're here.
Jarrett came forward to meet me, but on seeing me well dressed and with a smiling face he postponed the sermon that he wanted to preach to me. I should like to introduce Jarrett to my readers, for he was a most extraordinary man. He was then about sixty-five or seventy years of age.
A knock roused me suddenly, and my dog with ears erect sniffed at the door, but as he did not growl, I knew it was some one of our party. I opened the door, and Jarrett, followed by Abbey, made signs to me not to speak. Jarrett came in on tip-toe, and closed the door again. "Well, what is it now?" I asked.
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