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Updated: May 8, 2025
As a fitting end to the strange story of wayward love and maniacal frenzy which found an unusual habitat in a secluded hamlet like Steynholme, a small vignette of its normal life may be etched in. The trope is germane to the scene. On a wet afternoon in October Hobbs and Elkin had adjourned to the Hare and Hounds. Tomlin was reading a newspaper spread on the bar counter. He was alone.
It was he from whom speech might least be expected who first found his tongue. Bates, who had stooped, straightened himself slowly. "By gum!" he said, "this be a bad business, Mr. Grant. Who is she? She's none of our Steynholme lasses." Still Grant uttered no word. He just looked in horror at the poor husk of a woman who in life had undoubtedly been beautiful.
Fowler that he has a particularly smart man in Steynholme." "Very well, sir, if you're satisfied, I must be." And away went the eavesdropper, crushed, still tingling with that fear of the supernatural latent in every heart, but far from convinced. Furneaux tripped downstairs. The routing of Robinson had put him into a real good humor.
How goes it, Charles?" cried the big man heartily, affecting to be aware of Furneaux's presence when the latter had walked nearly a hundred yards down a comparatively deserted street. "What's wrong with the toofa?" inquired Furneaux testily. "My own carelessness. Stupid things, bands on cigars.... Well, what's the rush?" "There's a train to Steynholme at five o'clock. I want you to take hold.
We haven't a solitary witness. Hardly a night but he goes home at 9.30. If only he had killed Grant! But Adelaide Melhuish!" In sheer despair he struck a match. "Well, let's overhaul these duds," said Furneaux savagely. "I'll chance the dinner hour for the return visit. Steynholme folk eat at half past twelve to the tick, and you can hardly get up another horse show."
Evidently, her face was sufficiently familiar that you should know instantly who this unusual visitor was. I understand, though, that you had not the least notion she was staying in Steynholme?" "Not the least." "How long ago is it since you last saw her?" "Nearly three years."
Here is my official card, and I'll run quickly through events until 1.30 p.m. to-day. I met Mr. Furneaux at Victoria, and he posted me fully up to that hour." So the policeman listened to a clear summary of the Steynholme case as it was known to the authorities. "I did not warn either Mr. Fowler or you of my visit because a telegram could hardly be explicit enough," concluded Winter.
Winter read: "Sorry to spoil your party. Compelled to travel to London. Returning early to-morrow. "That's pretty Fanny's way," smiled the Chief Inspector. "But there's something in the wind, or he would never have hurried off in this fashion. He tells me that the only pleasant evening he spent in Steynholme was under your roof, Mr. Grant."
The sensitive side of his temperament shrank from this thinly-veiled hostility. He was by way of being popular in Steynholme, yet not a soul spoke to him. Before he reached the bridge, the other side of him, the man of action, of cool resource in an emergency, rose in rebellion against the league of silly clodhoppers. Back he strode to the post office and dashed off a telegram.
When Tomlin admitted him to the Hare and Hounds, he buttonholed the landlord, who, at that hour, was usually somewhat obfuscated. "Sir," said the detective gravely, "I am told that you Steynholme folk indulge occasionally in such frivolities as amateur theatricals?" "Once in a way, sir. Once in a way. Afore I lock up the bar, will you " "Not to-night.
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