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Updated: June 8, 2025
"Who, may I ask, is Doris Martin?" put in Hart. "The Steynholme postmaster's daughter," said Furneaux. "A remarkably pretty and intelligent girl. If her father was a peer she would be the belle of a London season. As it is, her good looks seem to have put a maggot in more than one nut in this village." Hart waved the negro's head in the air. "The lunatic theory for mine," he declared.
"I'm a greater believer in what the theater people call 'atmosphere. Some of your facts, Mr. Ingerman, remind me of an expert's report in a mining prospectus. When tested by cyanide of potassium the gold in the ore often changes into iron pyrites. But don't hug the delusion that I shall neglect Steynholme.
Next morning Steynholme was again united in condemning Grant, while the postmaster and his daughter were not wholly exempted from criticism. The dinner itself was an altogether harmless and cheery meal. By common consent not one word was said about the murder. Hart was amusing on the question of bees almost flippant, Mr. Martin deemed him.
"A very serviceable knot, which will resist to the full strength of the rope." "We have no sailors in Steynholme, sir," said the policeman. "Oh, it's used regularly by tradesmen," put in Grant. "A draper, or grocer any man accustomed to tying parcels securely, in fact will fashion that knot nine times out of ten." "How about a a farmer, sir?"
Each of these drawbacks was a commendation to Furneaux. In fact, the Steynholme mystery had taken quite a favorable turn during that talk with Ingerman. About the time Furneaux was whisked past The Hollies in Superintendent Fowler's dogcart, Grant and Hart were finishing luncheon, and planning a long walk to the sea.
For the rest, he is alone, shut off from the world. Without knowing it, he's going to fall into deep waters to-day, and he'll emit sparks, or I'm a Chinaman.... I'll leave you here. Good-by! See you on Tuesday, after lunch." The superintendent drove on alone. He pondered the Steynholme affair in all its bearings, but mostly did he weigh up Winter and Furneaux. At last, he sighed.
Adelaide Melhuish probably saw her with Grant. Neither Doris nor Grant knew that Adelaide Melhuish, as such, was in Steynholme. That is to say, the girl had seen Miss Melhuish in the post office, and recognized her as a famous actress, but that is all. And now I shan't tell you any more, or you'll know all that I know, which is too much."
"You knew her?" he gasped. "No, not exactly. But I couldn't avoid recognizing her when she asked for her letters, and sent a telegram." "But " "Oh, Robinson told me she was dead. I see now what is puzzling you." "It is not quite that. I mean, why didn't you tell me she was in Steynholme? Has she been staying here any length of time?" The girl's pretty face crimsoned, and then grew pale.
But that was his general repute in Steynholme a quiet, uninterfering person, who had come to the village a young man, yet had never really entered into its life. For instance, he neither held nor would accept any public office. At first, people wondered how he contrived to eke out a living, but this puzzle was solved by his admitted possession of a small annuity. Dr.
"You may be quite sure that neither they nor any other person in Steynholme will ever see the duplicate," he said confidentially. "I make up a package containing duplicates each evening, and it is sent to headquarters. If it will please you, I'll lock the copy now in my desk." "That is exceedingly good of you," said Siddle gratefully.
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