United States or Oman ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Hartley Parrish was wont to say that he paid his butler and housekeeper well to save himself from worry. It was rather to ensure his orders being punctiliously and promptly carried out. His was the mind behind the method which ensured that meals were punctually served and trains at Stevenish Station never missed.
In wind and rain the master of Harkings had been laid to rest in the quiet little churchyard of Stevenish. The ceremony had been arranged in haste, as soon as the coroner's jury had viewed the body. Robin Greve, that morning arrived from Rotterdam, Bude, and Mr. Bardy the solicitor, had been the only mourners.
Wright," he panted as he ran, "you didn't reelly ought ... If any one should come ..." But Bruce Wright was already at the window. The butler found him leaning on the sill, peering with an air of frightened curiosity into the empty room. "The glazier from Stevenish" Bude's voice breathed the words hoarsely in Wright's ear "is coming to-morrow morning to put the window in.
"Get on to the police station at Stevenish at once, Bude," he ordered. "Do you know the Inspector?" "Yessir," the butler answered in a hollow voice. His hands were trembling violently, and he seemed to control himself with difficulty. "Mr. Humphries, sir!" "Well, ring him up and tell him that Mr. Parrish ... Hullo, what do all these people want?" There was a commotion at the door.
Redstone is expecting me," he said rapidly; "I half promised to go over to Stevenish ... think I'll just run over. The walk'll do me good ..." He looked rather wildly about him, then fairly bolted from the room. Robin, the cover of the porridge dish in his hand, turned and stared at him. "Why, whatever's the matter with Romain?" he began.
Robin stepped out into the hall. He returned wearing his hat and overcoat. In his hand were two yale keys strung on a wisp of pink tape. "Listen, Bruce," he said. "Give me ten minutes' start to get rid of this jackal. Then clear out. There's a train to Stevenish at 3.23. If you get on the Underground at the Temple you ought to be able to make it easily. Here are the keys of the chambers.
A quarter of an hour later, Hartley Parrish's Rolls-Royce glided through the straggling main street of Stevenish. A chapel bell tinkled unmusically, and on the pavements, gleaming with wet, went a procession of neatly dressed townsfolk bound, prayer-book in hand, for their respective places of worship.
The nerves!" he said impressively. "Harley Street, not Mr. Greve, will supply the motive to this sad affair, believe me!" With that he accompanied the young man to the door of the club and from the vestibule watched him sally forth into the rain of Pall Mall. Then Mr. Jeekes turned to the hall porter. "Please get me Stevenish one-three-seven," he said, "it's a trunk call.
"Of course!" She took Bruce's outstretched hand. "I promise," he said. "You mustn't go without tea," said the girl. "Besides," she glanced at a little platinum watch on her wrist, "there's not another train until six. There is no need for you to start yet. I don't like being left alone. Mother has one of her headaches, and Horace and Dr. Romain have gone to Stevenish. Come up to my sitting-room!"
Word Of The Day