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Updated: May 22, 2025
Never rake up a man's past! And he never mentioned the subject again. Of course, I didn't either ..." Stretched full length in his chair, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, Robin remained lost in thought. "The conversation came back to me to-day," said the boy, "when I read of Parrish's death. And I wondered ..." "Well?"
"So you want to go over to Mr. Parrish's Snow Camp?" asked the old man. "It belongs to Mr. Cameron, now." said Ruth. "I know that there is a telephone there, and I can get word to Mr. Cameron and Helen and Tom at Scarboro that we are safe." "I'm not going," said Fred "I'll stay here." "You'll go along with Young Miss," said the hermit, firmly. "I'll git ye a pannikin of tea and a bite.
Over their meal Bruce told Robin of his adventure in the library at Harkings. "Jeekes must have collected that letter," Bruce said. "Before I came to you, I went to Lincoln's Inn Fields to see if he was still at Bardy's Parrish's solicitor, you know. But the office was closed, and the place in darkness. I went on to the Junior Pantheon, that's Jeekes's club, but he wasn't in.
They inform me that at one time, at any rate, Parrish did not use his chambers much, was a river man in the summer, and in the winter was abroad a great deal. The letter sent with the cash was merely a typed memorandum. There was no typewriter in Parrish's chambers, I think?" "No." Quarles took from some papers the fly-leaf he had torn from one of the books.
A boat several hours ahead may be seen only a few hundred yards distant across the desert. The banks are so flat and level that it looks as if the other vessels were steaming along on land. The Arab river-craft was most picturesque. At sunset a mahela, bearing down with filled sail, might have been the model for Maxfield Parrish's Pirate Ship.
Propped up against the large crystal ink-well was a letter addressed simply "Miss Mary Trevert" in Hartley Parrish's big, vigorous, and sprawling handwriting. The letter to Mary Trevert, Robin did not touch. But he picked up the long brown envelope. On the back it bore a printed seal. The envelope contained a document and a letter. At the sight of it the young man started.
"But, Euan," the girl was very serious now, "what has the Secret Service to do with Hartley Parrish's clients in Holland?" The King's messenger laid a lean finger along his nose. "Ah!" he said, "what? That's what is beginning to interest me!" Life is like a kaleidoscope, that ingenious toy which was the delight of the Victorian nursery.
Miss Trevert was engaged to H.P. and has a letter from Elias van der Spyck and Company which she found on Parrish's desk after his death. I should say that the Marbran-Parrish connection would repay investigation. Yours P.S. The letter is, of course, in conventional code. P.P.S. Don't frighten the life out of the Trevert girl, you unsympathetic brute! Robin read the letter through to the end.
They reverberated up the fine old oak staircase to the luxurious Louis XV bedroom, where Lady Margaret Trevert lay on her bed idly smiling through an amusing novel. They crashed through the thickly padded baize doors leading to the servants' hall, where, at sixpence a hundred, Parrish's man, Jay, was partnering Lady Margaret's maid against Mrs.
Parrish's desk was in front of this window, between it and the door in consequence. By the other window, which, as has been stated, looked out on the clipped hedge surrounding the Pleasure Ground, was the little table with the Chelsea china, the dictaphone, and one of the easy-chairs. The centre of the room was clear so that nothing lay between the door and the carved mahogany chair at the desk.
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