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Updated: June 22, 2025
"Do you think he will tell me?" Hewitt shook his head again. "Scarcely likely," he said. "He's an odd fellow, this Mr. Peytral a foreigner, with revenge in his blood. I have done him and his daughter some little service, and he told me all his private history; but he seemed even then disposed to keep Mayes to himself and let nobody interfere with his own vengeance. But I will wire if you like.
Did you ever hear of Alexandre Dumas?" "No, sir, can't say I did." "Well, he was a very great Frenchman indeed, but he had as much 'dark blood' as your master had probably more; and it came from the West Indies, too. But go on." "Mr. Peytral, you must understand, sir, has lived here a year or two I've only been with him nine months.
Peytral described his following of Mayes at much greater length and detail than before, and he and Hewitt had come on to Norbury Row at once and asked news of Mr. Moon. Mr.
Peytral had taken the house in which we were sitting it was called "The Lodge" simply two years ago. Before that the family had lived in Surrey, but they had not moved direct from there; there was a journey to America between, on some business of Mr. Peytral's, and it was on the return voyage that they had met Mr. Percy Bowmore. Mr.
Peytral had returned from a short walk after dinner, very much agitated; and from that day he had made a practice of going out immediately after dinner every evening regularly, walking off across the paddock, and so away in the direction of Penn's Meadow.
In fact, in the second case, the tourniquet itself was left behind." "Yes," Hewitt replied, "I loosened it myself but, unfortunately, I was too late." "Well, now," Peytral went on, "in Hayti, in my time, Mayes's enemies had a habit of dying suddenly in the night, by strangulation, and a tourniquet was always the instrument.
The coachman was a civil and intelligent fellow, and he gave Hewitt all he knew of the case with perfect clearness, as I could very well hear. "It isn't much I can tell you, sir," he said, "beyond what I expect you know. I suppose you didn't know Mr. Peytral, my master, that's dead?" "No. But he was a foreigner, I suppose French, from the name."
"Well," Peytral pursued, "then I need not expatiate on it, and you will understand the sort of place that Mayes fled to, and how it suited him. He was a man of far greater ability than any of the coarse scoundrels in power, and he was worse than all of them. He was not such a fool as to aim at ostensible political power that way generally led to assassination.
Thus it was settled, and Hewitt and Plummer went off at once, leaving Plummer's men, with the City police, in charge of the raided premises; leaving some of them also to make inquiries in the neighbourhood. Mr. Victor Peytral had shown himself anxious to accompany Hewitt and Plummer, but had been dissuaded by Hewitt.
This the young man had done; but he returned alone after a while, saying simply that he had lost sight of Mr. Peytral, whom he had supposed might have come home by some other way; and mentioning also that he had been told that Penn's Meadow barn was on fire. When it grew late, and Mr. Peytral failed to return, Bowmore went out again and made inquiry in all directions.
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