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Updated: May 8, 2025
The villagers could not understand him. Already, in some mysterious way, the word had gone around that Siddle had murdered the actress, and taken his own life to avoid arrest, after shooting at the detective who was hot on his trail. Not until Peters's articles came back to Steynholme did the public at large realize that the chemist undoubtedly meant to kill Doris Martin.
Racing, coaching, roadsters, or hacks?" "All sorts. The Argentine, where I have connections, offers an ever-open door to good horseflesh." "Are you having a look round?" "Yes. There are several decent studs within driving distance of Steynholme. Isn't that so, landlord?" "Lots, sir," said Tomlin. "An' the very man you're talkin' to has some stuff not to be sneezed at." "Is that so?" Mr.
Who knows but that a stroll through Cornhill may have some bearing on the Steynholme mystery?" "May be you'd get a bit nearer if you took a stroll along the Knoleworth Road, and not so very far, either," guffawed Elkin. "Who knows?" repeated Furneaux sadly. "Good-day, gentlemen. Some of this merry party will meet again, of course, if not here, at the Assizes. Don't forget my bill. Mr. Tomlin.
Winter bent over, keen to discern the gray-backed fish which must be lurking in those clear depths and rippling shallows. The sun, transmuted into Greenwich time, exercised an extraordinary influence on the seemingly humdrum life of Steynholme that day. A few minutes after three o'clock just too late to observe either Winter or Siddle P.C. Robinson strolled forth from his cottage.
One fact stood out boldly. He was aware of his hereditary taint, and had settled down in Steynholme believing that a quiet life, free from care or the distractions of a town, would enable him to overcome it. Probably, the lawyer held, the man owned two distinct individualities, and the baser instincts gradually overpowered the humane ones.
The cigar was behaving itself at last, having burnt down to the fracture, so Winter's thoughts could be given exclusively to the less important matter of the Steynholme affair. "To begin with," he said instantly. "Ingerman can establish a cast-iron alibi." "So I imagined. But he's a bad lot. I throw in that item gratuitously."
I've a fine collection the jury, all in a row and you, making that speech to the mob." "Oh! Will that appear?" "By Jove, yes, sir. It was wired off before the inquest opened." Grant reddened slightly. His own impetuous action had blurted out to the whole world that which Steynholme was only thinking. No wonder Furneaux had warned him to go slow.
A triangular strip of turf formed the village green, and the houses of Steynholme clustered around this and a side road climbing the hill. From door and windows nearly every shop and residence in the village proper could be seen. In front of the Hare and Hounds had gathered a group of men, and it was easy to guess the topic they were discussing.
"Well, we don't seem to get any forrarder," he said. "You ought to take more care of your health, Mr. Elkin. You're a changed man these days." "I'll be all right when this murder is off our chests, Robinson. You won't have a tiddley? Right-o! So long!" Robinson walked slowly toward Steynholme.
The next half hour should prove a golden one if well utilized. He was right. Before the inn was cleared, what between Elkin's savage comments and the other men's thinly-veiled allusions, he knew all that Steynholme could tell with regard to Grant and Doris Martin. Grant's first thought next morning was of the girl who had been thrust so prominently into his life by the death of another woman.
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