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Updated: May 14, 2025
"The smaller candle was twisted into a sort of corkscrew shape." "The Clue of the Twisted Candle," mused John Lexman "that's a very good title Kara hated candles." "Why?" Lexman leant back in his chair, selected a cigarette from a silver case. "In my wanderings," he said, "I have been to many strange places.
Alan felt like crying out that Lexman was a bold and daring pioneer, never afraid to take a chance, never worried about expense or public reaction. It was obvious, though, that the people of the Institute had long since fossilized in their patterns. It was a waste of breath to argue with them.
T. X. had superintended the disposal of Beston Priory. He had the furniture removed to London, and had taken a flat for Grace Lexman. "Fifteen years," murmured T. X., as he worked and whistled. There had been no hope for John Lexman from the start. He was in debt to the man he killed. His story of threatening letters was not substantiated.
'Why, she has done all that a woman can do for a man like me. She has made me feel little. Until I had a rebuff from her, I had all the world at my feet, Lexman. I did as I liked. If I crooked my little finger, people ran after me and that one experience with her has broken me. Oh, don't think, he went on quickly, 'that I am broken in love.
She thought a moment. "Where will it be delivered!" "I don't know," he said in astonishment; "does that matter?" "It matters a great deal," she said emphatically, "especially if I want it delivered in a certain place. Would you induce Mr. Lexman to lecture at my house?" "At Portman Place!" he asked. She shook her head. "No, I have a house of my own. A furnished house I have rented at Blackheath.
Or a candle fixed to the shaved head of a man there are hundreds of variations and the candle plays a part in all of them. I don't know which Kara had cause to hate the worst, but I know one or two that he has employed." "Was he as bad as that?" asked T. X. John Lexman laughed. "You don't know how bad he was," he said.
In his erratic, tempestuous way, T. X. had suggested the greatest idea for a plot that any author could desire. But it was not of T. X. that John Lexman thought as he breasted the hill, on the slope of which was the tiny habitation known by the somewhat magnificent title of Beston Priory.
"There is a possibility, of course," said Lexman slowly, "that the steel latch may have been raised by somebody outside by some ingenious magnetic arrangement and lowered in a similar manner." "I have thought about it," said T. X. triumphantly, "and I have made the most elaborate tests only this morning.
I invited him to dine with me before he left London, and in reply received a wire from Southampton intimating that he was already on his way." Lexman nodded. "It must be an awfully interesting kind of life," he said. "I suppose he will be away for quite a long time?" "Three years," said Kara, continuing his examination of the bookshelf.
The warder responsible had been discharged from the service, and had almost immediately purchased for himself a beer house in Falmouth, for a sum which left no doubt in the official mind that he had been the recipient of a heavy bribe. Who had been the guiding spirit in that escape Mrs. Lexman, or Kara? It was impossible to connect Kara with the event.
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