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Updated: June 14, 2025
Her dislike of her father was instinctive, almost impersonal, being based, indeed, on his treatment of her mother rather than on any resentment of his neglect of herself. But Robert Turold had never been able to intimidate his daughter or tame her fearless spirit. She had inherited too much of his own nature for that.
A silence fell between them upon this statement, and Robert Turold's eyes turned towards his papers again. But Thalassa stood watching him, as though he had something on his mind still. He brought it out abruptly "And what about your daughter?" "My daughter is going to London with my sister for a prolonged visit," said Robert Turold hurriedly.
Charles Turold got up from his seat and took a turn round the room, then came back and stood looking down at her as she sat with her hand resting on the dark polished surface of the table. His first words seemed to convey some inward doubt of the adequacy of the motive for disappearance which her story revealed. "You should not have gone away like that, Sisily," he said soberly.
"There's no keeping it out. I'm going downstairs to lock up now. You'll have your supper up here, I suppose?" "Yes. I have a lot of work to do before I go to bed." Thalassa left the room without further speech, and Robert Turold began rummaging among his papers with a hand which trembled slightly. The table was littered with parchments, old books, and some sheets of newly written foolscap.
As it happened, I never did. I stayed on, going from place to place where they went where Turold took us." "Whom did my uncle marry?" asked Charles. "You might a' guessed that. 'Twas the girl t'other had cut him out of. I thought the masterful devil'd get her when Remington was out of the way, but I asked him once straight out, and he said yes, it was the same girl.
"There's a smear of blood on the dial," said Barrant, staring at it. "Was that made by the right or left hand?" "The right hand was resting on the clock-face. Why do you ask?" Mr. Brimsdown hesitated, then said: "The thought has occurred to me that Robert Turold may have gone to the clock for a different purpose not for papers.
That brought the lawyer back to the position that some foreboding or warning of his murder had caused Robert Turold to summon him to Cornwall by letter. The next step of his investigations led Mr. Brimsdown to the dead man's study, where that frantic appeal had been penned. He engaged a vehicle at the hotel and drove over to Flint House in the afternoon. The impression of that visit remained.
A grim smile curved Thalassa's face as he uttered these words; the idea seemed to contain elements of humour for him. "They were diamonds, then?" said Charles curiously. "Ay; they were diamonds right enough. Him Turold said they were diamonds as soon as he uncorked one of the bottles and poured a few into the palm of his hand.
Robert Turold is supposed to have kept valuable papers in that old clock on the wall, which was found on the floor that night. Apparently he staggered to it during his dying moments and pulled it down on top of him. For what purpose? His daughter may have guessed that the proofs of her illegitimacy were kept there, and tried to get them. Her father sought to stop her, and she shot him."
My maid overheard the detective say something while she was in and out of the room serving tea, and she told me what she had heard. I saw things in a new light then, and I was terribly upset. But I could not see my way clear until you came to the house to-day. Then I decided to tell you." "Can you tell me what time Charles Turold came in that night?" "I have no idea.
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