Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 22, 2025
She was now a wealthy woman. Hartley Parrish's will had ensured that, he knew. But it was not the barrier of riches that Robin Greve feared. He had asked Mary Trevert to be his wife before there was any thought of her inheriting Parrish's fortune. He derived a little consolation from that reflection. At least he could not appear as a fortune-hunter in her eyes.
Parrish's finger-prints on the inside of the window-frame. Outside we found other finger-prints ... Sir Horace's. Sir Horace was good enough to allow his to be taken." The girl looked at the detective quickly. "Were there any other finger-prints except Horace's on the outside?" she asked. Mr. Manderton shook his head. "No, Miss," he answered.
The sight of that crumpled ball of slatey-blue paper brought back to Robin's mind with astonishing vividness every detail of the scene in the library. Once more he looked into Hartley Parrish's staring, unseeing eyes, saw the firelight gleam again on the heavy gold signet ring on the dead man's hand, the tag of the dead man's bootlace as it trailed from one sprawling foot across the carpet.
Parrish had a Maxim silencer on his gun ..." Mr. Manderton was now thoroughly alert. "How did you find that out?" he asked. "Jay, Parrish's man, came forward and volunteered this evidence ..." "He said nothing about it when I questioned him," grumbled the detective. Robin laughed.
"I'm quite ready. How are Frank's spirits since the great decision?" "Frank's spirits?" said Betty. She leisurely took off her glove. "Frank's spirits, my dear, if you wish to know, are simply an affront to his wife. My ruined ambitions appear to affect him as Parrish's food does the baby. I prophesy he will have gained a stone by Christmas." For the great step had been taken.
"Because," said Mary, "directly after discovering it I found Bruce Wright, who used to be one of Mr. Parrish's private secretaries, hiding behind the curtains in the library. Now, Bruce Wright is a great friend of Robin Greve's, and I immediately suspected that Robin had sent him to Harkings, particularly as ..." "As what?..."
"But I have a notion that we shall find a clue in this letter which, like a blithering fool, I left on Parrish's desk. It's the first glimmer of hope I've seen yet ..." Bruce Wright squared his shoulders and threw his head back. "I'll get it for you," he said. "Good boy," said Robin. "But, Bruce," he went on, "you'll have to go carefully. My name is mud in that house.
Robin turned round and faced the house. From his elevation he could look down into the library through the window with its shattered pane. He could see the gleaming polish on Hartley Parrish's big desk and the great arm-chair pushed back as Hartley Parrish had pushed it from him just before his death.
And so, scarcely had the last reverberation of Bude's measured gonging died away than the French window leading from the lounge-hall on to the terrace was pushed open and two of Hartley Parrish's guests emerged from the falling darkness without into the pleasant comfort of the firelit room. They were an oddly matched pair.
In reply Robin told him the story of Hartley Parrish's death, his growing certainty that the millionaire had been murdered, the mysterious letters on slatey-blue paper, and Jeekes's endeavor to burke the investigations by throwing on Robin the suspicion of having driven Parrish to suicide by threats.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking