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Updated: May 8, 2025
Quiet little Steynholme had suddenly become a rigid censor of morals and etiquette. Until this evil thing was annihilated by slow process of law, Doris and he might meet only by chance and never remain long together. When the two were ready to start, Hart elected to dispense with his South American sombrero. "I am sensitive to ridicule," he professed.
The detective walked straight there, and tapped lightly on the window. Robinson, after an affected delay, came to the door. "Who's there?" he demanded. "As if you didn't know," laughed Furneaux. Robinson turned a key, and looked out. "Oh, it's you, sir?" he cried. "You'll get tired of saying that before I quit Steynholme," said the detective. "May I come in? No, don't show a light here.
That doesn't argue long and close knowledge." "We must look into it. Robinson has been stationed here four years. Siddle is not old, but he has been in business in Steynholme more years than that. But you'll pardon me, I'm sure, Mr. Winter may I take it that you are really interested in the chemist's history?"
What you must say is that this affair looks like baffling the shrewdest wits in Scotland Yard." "My very phrase my own ewe lamb. Pardon. I shouldn't have alluded to sheep." "The only known representative of the Yard in Steynholme is Furneaux," smiled the Chief Inspector. Furneaux was drumming on a window-pane with his finger-tips. "True," he cackled.
But his thoughts were far a-field from joyriders, stray cattle, hawkers without licenses, and other similar small fry which come into the constabulary net. It would be a feather in his cap if he could only strike the trail of the veritable Steynholme murderer. The entrancing notion possessed him morning, noon, and night. Mrs. Robinson declared that it even dominated his dreams. Robinson was sharp.
Grant is suffering," she ventured to murmur. "And a good thing, too. It will steady him. Hurry, please. I'll wait here till you are behind a locked door." "No one in Steynholme will hurt me," she said. "You never can tell. I'm not taking any chances to-night, however." So Doris sped swiftly up the hill.
"If one woman's lovely face could bring a thousand ships to Ilion, why should not another's drive men to madness in Steynholme?" "Well phrased, sir," cackled Furneaux delightedly.
Then I persuaded myself that I was imagining a vain thing, and came in." "What was she doing here?" "I don't know." "She arrived in Steynholme on Sunday evening, I am told." "I heard that, too." "You imply that you did not meet her?" "No need to imply anything, Mr. Ingerman. I did not meet her.
That evening, shortly before seven o'clock, a stalwart, prosperous-looking gentleman in tweeds "descended" from the London express at Knoleworth. The local train for Steynholme stood in a bay on the opposite platform, and this passenger in particular was making for it when he nearly collided with another man, younger, thinner, bespectacled, who hailed him with delight. "You, too?
Surely it is always best to tell the truth!" He looked into those candid blue eyes, and drew from their limpid depths an element of strength and fortitude. "By Jove, Doris, small wonder if a jaded man of the world, such as I was when I came to Steynholme, found new faith and inspiration in friendship with you," he said gratefully. "But I am wool-gathering all the time this morning, it would seem.
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