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Updated: June 1, 2025
"Sit down!" snapped Dr. Cumberly, turning to him; "damn it, Leroux, you are worse than a woman!" In a manner almost childlike, the novelist obeyed the will of the stronger man, throwing himself into an armchair, and burying his face in his hands. "My wife!" he kept muttering "my wife!"...
"No living thing," said Leroux, monotonously, "left this flat from the time that the three of us, Exel, Cumberly, and I, entered, up to the time that Miss Cumberly came, and, with the doctor, went out again." "H'm!" said the inspector, making notes; "it appears so, certainly. I will ask you then, for your own account, Mr. Leroux, of the arrival of the woman in the civet furs.
A massive head, with tawny, leonine eyes; indeed, altogether a leonine face, and a frame indicative of tremendous nervous energy. In the entrance lobby he stood for a moment. "My name is Cumberly," said the doctor, glancing at the card which the Scotland Yard man had proffered. "I occupy the flat above." "Glad to know you, Dr.
M. Gaston Max pressed the bell above which appeared: DR. BRUCE CUMBERLY. He was admitted by Garnham, who attended there daily during the hours when Dr. Cumberly was visible to patients, and presently found himself in the consulting room of the physician. "Good morning, M. Gaston!" said Cumberly, rising and shaking his visitor by the hand. "Pray sit down, and let us get to business.
"Is Detective-Inspector Dunbar here?" inquired the physician. "Yes, sir." "Say that Dr. Cumberly wishes to speak to him. And" as the man was about to depart "request him not to arouse Mr. Leroux." Almost immediately the inspector appeared, a look of surprise upon his face, which increased on perceiving the girl beside her father.
Cumberly crossed the room and dropped upon his knees. He turned the white face toward the light, gently parted the civet fur, and pressed his ear to the silken covering of the breast. He started slightly and looked into the glazing eyes. Replacing the fur which he had disarranged, the physician stood up and fixed a keen gaze upon the face of Henry Leroux.
It was a letter of instruction, and definitely it proved that she was no more than a kind of glorified concierge, and that the chief of the opium group was in London." "Undoubtedly in London. There was no address on the letter, and no date, and it was curiously signed: Mr. King." "Mr. King!" Dr. Cumberly rose slowly from his chair, and took a step toward M. Max.
Cumberly turned in his promenade and stared at the detective "he's not the only one?" "My dear sir," said Max, gently, "the victims of Mr. King are truly as the sands of Arabia." "Good heavens!" muttered Dr. Cumberly; "good heavens!" "I came immediately to London," continued Max, "and presented myself at New Scotland Yard.
Cumberly, who had learned to accept men and women upon his daughter's estimate, welcomed the resplendent Parisian hospitably; the warm, shaded lights made convivial play in the amber deeps of the decanters, and the cigars had a fire-side fragrance which M. Max found wholly irresistible.
But then, you are a doctor's daughter." They entered, and the inspector closed the door behind them. "Don't arouse poor Leroux," whispered Cumberly to the detective. "I left him on a couch in the dining-room."... "He is still there," replied Dunbar; "poor chap! It is"... He met Helen's glance, and broke off shortly.
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