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Updated: May 22, 2025
"I don't know at all," said Mary, smoothing back a lock of hair from her temple; "I daresay Mr. Jeekes had a look round, as he had a meeting with Mr. Parrish's lawyer in town this afternoon!" She had lost all trace of her fright and was now quite calm and collected. "Do you know for certain whether Mr. Jeekes was in here?" asked Bruce. "Oh, yes.
Robin thrust one hand into his right-hand pocket to get his pipe, his other hand into his left-hand pocket to find his pouch. His left hand came into contact with a little ball of paper. He drew it out. It was the little ball of slatey-blue paper he had found on the floor of the library beside Hartley Parrish's dead body. Horace Trevert walked abruptly into Mary's Chinese boudoir.
Parrish's, shot at Parrish through the open window of the library and killed him probably in self-defence, after Parrish had had a shot at him ..." "Steady there, whoa!" said Mr. Manderton in a jocular way clearly expressive of his incredulity; "there was only one shot ..." "There were two," was Robin's dispassionate reply. "Though maybe only one was heard.
In spite of my cousin's man's beer, which I could still taste, I was ravenously hungry; so, seeing no one about, I broke into a chemist's shop and stayed the pangs on a cake of petroleum soap, some Parrish's food, and a box of menthol pastilles, which I washed down with a split ammoniated quinine and Condy.
Parrish sat at his desk, read through his will, and wrote a letter to Miss Trevert informing her that, under the will, she was left sole legatee. This letter, with the will, was found on the desk after Mr. Parrish's death. Presumably in view of the threat against his life contained in this letter," the detective held up the slatey-blue paper, "Mr.
I never gave any particular heed to it. I used to see the automatic lying in the drawer of the wardrobe in Mr. Parrish's room in a wash-leather case. I noticed this steel appliance, sir, because the case wouldn't shut over the pistol with it on and the butt used to stick out." "When did you last notice Mr. Parrish's automatic?" "It would be Thursday or Friday, sir. I went to that drawer to get Mr.
There, in the midst of all the evidences of Hartley Parrish's meteoric rise to affluence and power, Greve pondered for an instant on the strange pranks which Fate plays us poor mortals. Parrish had risen, as Greve and all the world knew, from the bottom rung of the ladder.
But I felt I could not rest until I had investigated matters for myself. I would have presented myself in the ordinary way, but, as I told you, Bude told me the police had locked up the room and taken away the key ..." Mary Trevert smiled forgivingly. "So they did," she said. "But Jay Mr. Parrish's man, you know had another key. He brought it to me."
Of all the luxuries of which Hartley Parrish's sudden rise to wealth gave him possession, Bude, his butler, was the acquisition in which he took the greatest delight and pride.
With that he opened the corridor door and vanished down the passage. With great deliberation Robin selected a cigarette from his case, lit it, and walked out through the front door into the fresh air again. More than ever he felt the riddle of Hartley Parrish's death weighing upon his mind.
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