Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 14, 2025
Thalassa, retracting his previous statement that he was not out of Flint House that night, for the first time tells of some mysterious avenger who, he thinks, killed Robert Turold while he was out of the house with Miss Turold. Have I got it right?" "Yes," said Charles, "you have it right." "The story rests on Thalassa's bare statement, and Thalassa is a facile liar." Barrant's tone was scornful.
A sudden silence fell on the house: a deep and profound stillness, as though seas and wind had hushed their wailing speech to listen for the answer to the knock. The birds, too, were silent. The house remained immutably quiet. Charles Turold bent down, and peered through the keyhole, but could see nothing within but darkness.
Sometimes I am inclined to think that it may be only a trifling thing, easily explained, and of no importance. But sometimes at night it assumes a terrible significance. I need counsel wise counsel about it." She paused and looked at him wistfully. As though interpreting his nod as encouragement, she went on . "Mr. Austin Turold and his son have been inmates of my household for the last six weeks.
Try as he would, there were always some loose ends left over, some elements of uncertainty which left him perplexed. He fashioned a new view of the murder, with Charles Turold as the principal figure in it the actual murderer. He assumed that Charles and Sisily had gone to Flint House that night to prevent the truth about Sisily's birth becoming known.
What took place in that brief yet vital space of time? Did Thalassa hold his master in a grim clutch while the girl took the revolver out of the drawer and shot him? What took Robert Turold to the clock in his dying moments? These are questions we cannot answer at present.
"I am Detective Barrant of Scotland Yard. I wish to speak to you privately." His emphasis on the last word was not lost on Charles Turold. With a slight indifferent nod to Mr. Brimsdown he went out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. "I have come to see you about this letter which you left with Inspector Dawfield."
At last it came about that there was only these two big 'uns left, lying like two beans on the bit o' rock, side by side. Before I could guess what was likely to happen Turold grabbed them up quick, and put them in his bottle. 'These two are mine, Thalassa's and mine, he said. 'You've had your share, Remington. Remington sprang from the rock quick as a snake. 'One's mine, he said.
Even Mallet de Graville frowned at the sight of the sire's infirmity, even Turold the dwarf shook his head. William put down the boy, gave the brief order for the stranger's admission, and, punctilious in ceremonial, beckoning De Graville to follow him, passed at once into the next chamber, and seated himself on his chair of state.
It had also taken the liveliness out of Robert Turold for good and all. Thalassa went on with his story. The young men were served with their beer at five shillings a bottle, and sat down in a corner to drink it. They talked as they sipped, and Thalassa listened.
He opened it without troubling to knock, but started back in astonishment at the sight which met his eyes. Robert Turold was crouching by the table like a beaten dog, whimpering and shaking with fear. He sprang to his feet as Thalassa entered, and advanced towards him. "Thank God you've come, Thalassa," he cried. "What's the matter with you?" said Thalassa sternly.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking