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Updated: May 13, 2025
He moved his own an inch from the table, then let it fall again. "Come on," said Jimmy. "Do it now. Be a sport." And with a great grunt, which might have meant anything, from resignation to cordiality, Mr. McEachern capitulated. The American liner, St. Louis, lay in the Empress Dock, at Southampton, taking aboard her passengers.
"Jimmy is staying here, father. He is the friend Spennie was bringing." "This is the friend that Spennie brought," said Jimmy in a rapid undertone. "This is the maiden all forlorn who crossed the seas, and lived in the house that sheltered the friend that Spennie brought." "I see, me dear," said Mr. McEachern slowly. "'Wah " "No, I've guessed that one already," said Jimmy. "Ask me another."
"What's your book, my dear?" asked the Irishman. "'The Manoeuvres of Arthur, father. By Jeremy Garnet." I would not have believed without the evidence of my ears that my name could possibly have sounded so musical. "Molly McEachern gave it to me when I left the Abbey. She keeps a shelf of books for her guests when they are going away. I hated Miss McEachern without further evidence.
That's to say " Mr. McEachern started. "A detective!" "A detective, sir," said Mr. Galer, with a chuckle. "I said to him at the time " "The valet!" cried Mr. McEachern. "That's it, sir. Sir Thomas Blunt's valet, he was. That's how he got into the house, sir." Mr. McEachern grunted despairingly. "The man was right. He is a detective. Sir Thomas brought him down from London.
He had forgotten that a determined man can change the conversation to any subject he pleases by means of those three words. "By the way," said Mr. McEachern, "I thought Sir Thomas wasn't your uncle intending to announce ?" "Well, yes, he was," said Spennie. "Going to do it during the dancing, maybe?" "Well er no. The fact is, he's not going to do it at all, don't you know."
As he turned the bend in the road, he saw a girl in a riding-habit running toward him. She stopped running when she caught sight of him, and slowed down to a walk. "Thank you ever so much," she said, taking the reins from him. "Dandy, you naughty old thing! I got off to pick up my crop, and he ran away." Jimmy looked at her flushed, smiling face, and stood staring. It was Molly McEachern.
"Oh, you did, did you? And what business had you bringing detectives into other people's houses?" Mr. McEachern started to answer, but checked himself. Never before had he appreciated to the full the depth and truth of the proverb relating to the frying-pan and the fire. To clear himself, he must mention his suspicions of Jimmy, and also his reasons for those suspicions.
"I think he's a fine young fellow," he said, avoiding her eyes. "He's quite nice," said Molly, quietly. McEachern had been trying not to say it. He did not wish to say it. If it could have been hinted at, he would have done it. But he was not good at hinting. A lifetime passed in surroundings where the subtlest hint is a drive in the ribs with a truncheon does not leave a man an adept at the art.
Possibly because he was the exact antithesis of the late lamented, Lady Jane found herself drawn to Mr. McEachern. Whatever his faults, he had strength; and after her experience of married life with a weak man, Lady Jane had come to the conclusion that strength was the only male quality worth consideration.
You can't believe that I'm not simply an ordinary yegg, like the rest of the crooks you used to know. I promise you, I'm not. Can't you see that it doesn't matter what a man has been? It's what he is and what he means to be that counts. Mr. Patrick McEachern, of Corven Abbey, isn't the same as Constable McEachern, of the New York police.
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