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Updated: May 16, 2025
Five minutes later Miss Trevert went to fetch Parrish in to tea and heard a shot behind the locked door of the library. Horace Trevert got in through the window and found Parrish dead. Every one down at Harkings believes that I went in and threatened Parrish so that he committed suicide ..." "Whom do you mean by every one?" Robin laughed drily. "Mary Trevert, her mother, Horace Trevert ..."
Then Robin noticed that he was trembling with excitement and that his features were all distraught. "What's the matter with you, Bude?" Robin demanded. Humphries had stood on one side and Robin now faced the butler. "It's a letter from ... that Jeekes!" faltered Bude, holding out a salver. "I know his writing, sir!" "For Miss Trevert?" Robin gathered up the plain white envelope.
He told of his chance meeting with Jeekes in Rotterdam that morning, his adventure at the Villa Bergendal, his finding and rescue of Mary Trevert, and their escape. Herr Schulz listened attentively and without interruption until Robin had reached the end of his story.
As Robin was about to follow him into the lift, the manager stopped him. "Zere was a shentleman call to see Mees Trevert," he said, "two or three time 'e been 'ere ... a Sherman shentleman. 'E leave 'er a note ... will you take it?" Greatly puzzled, Robin Greve balanced in his hands the letter which the manager produced from a pigeon-hole. Then he tore open the envelope.
Mary Trevert pulled out the drawers and opened the cupboards. Two of the drawers were entirely empty and one of the cupboards contained nothing but a stack of cigar boxes. One drawer held various papers appertaining to the house. There was no sign of any letter written on the slatey-blue paper. The boy looked very hard at Mary.
He reached Rotterdam on a dull and muggy afternoon and lost no time in depositing his bag at the Grand Hotel. An enquiry at the office there satisfied him that Mary Trevert had not registered her name in the hotel book. Then he set out in a taxi upon a dreary round of the principal hotels. But fate, which loves to make a sport of lovers, played him a scurvy trick.
"What's the use of talking?" he said. "You know what I mean. Or would you like me to be plainer ..." Robin met his gaze unflinchingly. "I certainly would," he said, "if it's going to enlighten me as to why you should suddenly choose to behave like a lunatic ..." Horace Trevert leant back and thrust his hands into his pockets.
Punctually at the appointed hour an open touring-car drove up to the hotel. Mary was waiting at the entrance. The driver was a young Dutchman in a blue serge suit. He jumped out and came up to Mary. "Mees Trevert?" he said. Mary nodded, whereupon he helped her into the car, then got back into the driving-seat and they drove away.
"Her lawyer was Le Hagen it's a shady firm with a big criminal practice. They sometimes brief Mr. Greve ..." Mary Trevert clasped and unclasped her hands quickly. "I quite understand, Mr. Jeekes," she said. "You needn't say any more ..." She turned away in a manner that implied dismissal. It was as though she had forgotten the secretary's existence.
The butler replied that Miss Trevert was no longer at Harkings. She had gone to the Continent for a few days. This plain statement, retailed in the fortissimo voice which Bude reserved for use on the telephone, produced a remarkable effect on the detective. He grew red in the face. "What's that?" he cried assertively. "Gone to the Continent? I should have been told about this.
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