Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 11, 2025
They are becoming inconvenient in London, you understand." "But the theatre, your professional engagements?" "Bah, I have left the theatre. I have had enough of these stupid English people... they know nothing of art!" Desmond reflected a moment. Nur-el-Din's manner was most perplexing. What on earth could induce her to adopt this tone of condescension towards him? It nettled him.
She laughed, a pretty gurgling laugh, throwing back her head so that the diamond collar she was wearing heaved and flashed. "But you will come to my room, hein?" she went on. "Marie, my wrap!" and she led the way to the lift. Nur-el-Din's spacious dressing-room seemed to be full of people and flowers. All her little court was assembled amid a perfect bower of hot-house blooms and plants.
It was only just before Captain Strangwise knocked that I noticed Marie arranging Nur-el-Din's dresses. She must have come in afterwards without my seeing her." "Well then, this girl, Marie, didn't see the dancer give you the box but she heard her refer to it. Is that right?" "Yes, and, of course, Captain Strangwise..." "What about him?" "He must have heard what Nur-el-Din was saying, too!"
When I first heard the news of the murder over the telephone this morning, I had a kind of intuition that we should discover in it a thread leading back to this mesh of espionage. Is it merely a coincidence that a hair, resembling Nur-el-Din's, is found adhering to the straps with which Barbara Mackwayte was bound? I can't think so... and yet..."
The two men spent a long time going through the litter with which the floor in the bedroom and sitting room was strewed. But their labors were vain, and they turned their attention to the remaining rooms, of which there were three. The first room they visited, adjoining Nur-el-Din's bedroom, was scarcely better than an attic.
Producing an electric torch from his pocket, Matthews slipped down the stair with Gordon close behind. There was a pause, so tense that it seemed an eternity to Desmond, as he waited half-way down the ladder with the musty smell of the cellar in his nostrils. Then Matthews cried: "It's not her!" "Let me look!" Gordon broke in. Then Desmond heard him exclaim. "It's Nur-el-Din's French maid!
At a quarter to one he was ready dressed, feeling very scratchy and uncomfortable about the beard which he had not dared to remove owing to Nur-el-Din's presence in the house. Before he left the bedroom, he paused a moment at the desk, the documents of the Bellward case in his hands.
"Perfectly," answered his brother. "Well," Desmond went on deliberately, "I think that story gives us the right measure of Nur-el-Din's, character. She may be vain, she may be without morals, she may be weak, she may be an adventuress, but she's not a murderess. If anything, she's a victim!" Francis laughed shortly. "Victim be damned!" he cried.
But it's useless for you to try and see him yourself. You can drop me at the office!" Desmond was inclined to agree with her on this point and said so. "There is one thing especially that puzzles me, Miss Mackwayte," Desmond observed as they drove westward again, "and that is, how anyone could have known about your having this box of Nur-el-Din's.
Barbara was so much taken aback that she instinctively glanced over her shoulder at the door, thinking that the dancer had seen something there to frighten her. But the door was shut. When Barbara looked into the mirror again, she saw only the reflection of Nur-el-Din's pretty neck and shoulders. The dancer was talking again in low tones to Strangwise.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking