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Updated: June 25, 2025
Thalassa sat in a straight-backed wooden chair listening to the wind and rain raging outside, and occasionally glancing at his wife, who remained absorbed in her patience. Half an hour passed in silence, broken only by the rattling of rain on the window, and the loud ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. Suddenly the bell of Robert Turold's room rang loudly in its place behind the kitchen door.
He remained profoundly silent for a moment, as if meditating his words, and then plunged into his tale. The account of his own visit to Flint House on the night of the murder he related with details withheld from Sisily. The visit was the outcome of a quarrel between father and son over Robert Turold's announcement about his wife's previous marriage.
The following morning he sought out Inspector Dawfield at his office in Penzance and disclosed to him his conclusions about the case. "I intend to go to London by this morning's train, Dawfield," he announced. "We must find Robert Turold's daughter." "You think she has gone to London?" "I feel sure of it, and I do not think it will be difficult to trace her. I shall try first at Paddington.
As he applied his mind to the problem, the definite impression came back to him, and this time with renewed force, that the mystery surrounding Robert Turold's death was something which might not bear the light of day. He set his lips firmly as he considered that possibility. If that proved to be the case it would be his duty to cover it up again.
When I grip you firmly, as I do now, you can feel my fingers pressing their whole length on your flesh, can you not?" "I can indeed," said Dawfield, wincing. "You've a pretty powerful grip. I shall be black and blue." "The grip on Robert Turold's arm is quite a different thing," pursued Barrant earnestly. "Do not be afraid, I am not going to demonstrate again.
It was true that in that time he had found traces of the girl which he believed would lead to her early arrest, but the letter, with its implication that the dead man was aware of his impending doom, was a highly significant clue, and strengthened Barrant's original belief that the real mystery of Robert Turold's death lay much deeper than the plausible surface of events indicated.
Barrant noticed that the hallstand and a chair beside it were thick with dust. Evidently the house was empty. Turning first to make quite sure that the front door was securely shut, he took his way upstairs to Robert Turold's study.
My feeling is that after my poor brother shot himself he remembered in his dying moments that his will was hidden in the clock-case and might not be found. He made a desperate effort to reach it and dragged it down as he fell." The doctor listened attentively to this imaginary picture of Robert Turold's last moments. "But why should he destroy himself?" he queried. "Grief and remorse.
I gathered from what I overheard you say to Thalassa that you have been attending her." "I have been attending her since Mr. Turold's death." "She is in a strange condition," observed Barrant reflectively. "I was questioning her the other night, but I could get nothing out of her. She seems almost imbecile." "She is not a woman of strong mind, and she is now suffering from a severe shock.
Death at such a moment assumed an unexpected reality as an actual and tangible mocker of human ambitions. And this letter with its postscript what was the meaning of it? The lawyer knew nothing of Robert Turold's announcement to his family on the previous day.
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