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Updated: May 24, 2025
"Ass!" he growled, staring hard at me. Stodger made the epithet exclusively mine with a bow and a broad grin. Instantly the young fellow flushed and stammered an apology. "I didn't mean either of you chaps," he explained, in embarrassment. "It's that chuckle-headed hod-carrier in a blue uniform.
It was only that morning, in the midst of a blinding snow-storm, thoroughly disheartened by the loss of the ruby, that Stodger and I had left the old house; but as I approached it that night, it bore every appearance of having been abandoned for years instead of only a few hours. No smoke curled from the chimneys; no light gleamed at any of the windows.
Events thereafter moved with such electric swiftness that the details are all blurred. I remember that I heard Stodger shouting encouragement, and his stockinged feet patting the bare floors as he ran. As the bath room door shot open and the strange cry shrilled forth, some object fell to the floor near me.
"Here 's all I know about it: It must have happened sometime during the night; the report came in from Sheridan Park station about daylight. Three men from there, Patrolmen Callahan and O'Brien and a plain-clothes man named Stodger, are at the house holding two suspects until somebody shows up from the Central Office. Stodger 's in a stew; can't seem to make head nor tail of what's happened.
I 'm curious to see whether you discover anything. Queer old chap he was; I don't think anybody ever understood him." He broke off and eyed Stodger severely. "What the deuce are you laughing at, Stodger?" he demanded.
As Maillot dropped into his chair, Stodger could no longer contain himself. Drawing me into the hall, though the door was left wide open, he said, in a whisper that was heavy with importance: "You 'd never guess whose coachman it was." I made no attempt to, and my stout friend impressively announced: "Fluette's." "What!" Surprise jerked the exclamation from me; but I kept my voice subdued.
You blithering idiot, I 'm going down those stairs; if you want to rough it, just try to stop me." Another voice was raised in expostulation. Stodger, at my elbow, suddenly chuckled. "That's him!" he whispered, with an unaccountable excitement. "That's Maillot!" "He must be a tartar," I observed.
The bath room door stood wide open, and on the floor lay Miss Cooper lifeless, was my first horrified thought. Stodger, with the best of intensions and the least possible capacity for carrying them out, knelt helplessly beside her, under the delusion that he was rendering first aid. Instantly I lifted the still form from the floor and pillowed the sunny brown tresses in the hollow of my arm.
Stodger, a short, fat, good-natured chap, was awaiting my arrival evidently with some impatience, for he was stamping to and fro before the gate for warmth. As soon as he learned my business he conducted me up to the house. On the way he gave me a hasty account of the crime, concerning which he frankly and whimsically confessed to be very much at sea.
At this unfortuitous instant there came a loud rap upon the door, which immediately opened to disclose the rotund form of Stodger, and behind him two slight figures in furs and veils, bearing into this desolate and gloomy old mansion a delicious flavor of young, dainty, pretty femininity. "Miss Belle Fluette and Miss Genevieve Cooper to see Mr.
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