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Updated: June 26, 2025
On the opposite side of the saloon, not far from the door to his own quarters, Monk lay semi-prone with a purple face and protruding eyeballs, far gone toward death through strangulation. Phinuit, on his knees, was removing a silk handkerchief that had been twisted about that scrawney throat.
Why did he try to murder Mademoiselle Delorme? Why did he seek to prevent our reaching Cherbourg?" "Give you three guesses," Phinuit offered amiably. "But I warn you if you use more than one you'll forfeit my respect forever. And just to show what a good sport I am, I'll ask you a few leading questions. Why did Popinot pull off that little affair at Montpellier-le-Vieux?
Phinuit lounging beside the captain's desk with crossed feet overhanging one corner of it and mind intent on the prosaic business of paring his fingernails. Lanyard nodded to him with great good temper and while Phinuit lowered his feet and put away his penknife considerately placed a chair for Liane in the position in which she preferred to sit, with her face turned a little from the light.
"And what happened?" Phinuit enquired. "Why it so happened that they chose the time when I had made up my mind to be good for the rest of my days. It was all most unfortunate." "What answer did you give them, then?" "As memory serves, I told them they could all go plumb to hell." "So I hope history will not repeat, this time," Liane interjected. "And did they go?" Monk asked.
"I never thought to be rid of you without one more meeting " "Then there's good in the old bean yet," Phinuit interrupted in wasted irony. "One cherishes that hope, monsieur....But the trail I left for you to follow! I would be an ass indeed if I thought you would fail to find it.
"It is a pleasure indeed," Lanyard gravely acknowledged their several salutations "not, I must confess, altogether unexpected, but a pleasure none the less." "So you didn't think we'd be long spotting you in the good little old town?" Phinuit enquired. "Had a notion you thought the best way to lose us would be to put up at this well-known home of the highest prices." "No," Lanyard replied.
Phinuit was to be seen, standing with cap in hand, tiny rivulets running from the folds of his motor-coat and forming pools on the polished flooring.
But she had no trouble in understanding her sitter. After a while her automatic utterance announced the personality of a certain Dr. Phinuit, who was said to have been a noted French physician who had died long before. His "spirit" controlled her for a number of years. After some time Dr. Phinuit was succeeded by one "Pelham," and finally by "Imperator" and "Rector."
Phinuit must go to help, which gives him a chance to stroll at leisure through the lower part of the house and note every easy way of breaking in. Mr. Monk casually notes your likeness to the little girl he once met, he says, in your father's office; something you tell me you don't recall at all. And that places you as the veritable owner of the Anstruther jewels, and no mistake.
"So long as this entertaining fiction of brother-and-sister is thought worth while," he said with infuriated condescension, "it might be judicious not to indulge in inconsistent and unseemly demonstrations of affection within view of my officers and crew. Suppose we..." He choked a little. "In short, I came to invite you to a little conference in my rooms, with Mr. Phinuit." "Conference?"
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