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Updated: May 5, 2025
I searched the house inside and out, and Sergeant Lumbe has been scouring the country-side since daybreak looking for suspicious characters." "I am not blaming you, Caldew," responded Merrington, but his voice suggested the reverse of his words. "I am merely pointing out to you the way the British public will look at it.
There was a timid tap, and the door opened slowly, revealing the frail black figure of the housekeeper standing hesitatingly on the threshold. Her frightened eyes were directed to Merrington's truculent ones as though impelled by a magnet. "You you wished to see me?" she stammered. "Yes. Come in." Merrington curtly commanded. "Close that door, Lumbe. Sit down, Mrs.
Superintendent Merrington was walking up and down the room with rapid strides, occasionally glancing with some impatience at the clock which ticked with cheerful indifference on the mantelpiece. He was about to return to London, but was waiting for the return of Detective Caldew and Sergeant Lumbe.
So perhaps it will all come right in the end." With this comfortable doctrine of life, based on her perusal of female romances, Mrs. Lumbe got up from her seat to clear the table. "I trust it will," said her brother, but his remark had nothing to do with the triumph of true love in the last chapter. He left the room to get his bicycle to ride to Chidelham.
Tufnell returned along the carriage drive twenty minutes afterwards with Detective Caldew and Sergeant Lumbe. Nepcote heard the crunch of their feet on the gravel as they passed. His accuracy in these details which he could not possibly have known helped me to the conclusion that the whole of his story was true." "He had plenty of time to commit the murder, nevertheless," said Phil.
But Inspector Weyling, when notified of the crime by Sergeant Lumbe, had telephoned to the Chief Constable for instructions.
I know Billing's place very well, but I wasn't aware that he had sold it. I'd better be getting along. It's a good long ride." "What be you goin' there for, Tom?" asked Mrs. Lumbe, with keen curiosity. "About this case?" "Yes," replied Caldew shortly. "Have you found out anything yet, Tom?" pursued his sister earnestly, her curiosity overcoming her awe of her clever brother.
The butler of the moat-house was not in the habit of mixing with the villagers, and by them he was accounted something of a personage. He not only shone with the reflected glory of the big house, but was respected on his own merit as a "snug" man, who had saved money, and had a little property of his own. "Is your husband at home, Mrs. Lumbe?" he asked, in response to her mute glance of inquiry.
"Yes. She was shot in her bedroom a little while ago while the other guests were at dinner. You must come at once." Sergeant Lumbe laid his pipe on the table with a trembling hand. He was overwhelmed by the magnitude of the catastrophe, and hardly knew what to do.
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