Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Narkom jumped out, beckoned Sir Henry to follow him, and together they hurried into the grounds in quest of Cleek.
"But, my dear Cleek, that you should have chosen to stop at home and read about that particular affair! Bless my soul man, it's it's amazing, abnormal, uncanny! Positively uncanny, Cleek!" "My dear Narkom, I don't see where the uncanny element comes in, I must confess," replied Cleek with an indulgent smile. "Surely an Englishman must always feel a certain amount of interest in Mauravian affairs.
"I tell you that Scotland Yard must do something must! must! must!" stormed he as Narkom, resenting that stigma upon the institution, puckered up his lips and looked savage.
Narkom, it is nothing that ever came your way, no affair that has happened since you and I first met, sir. It was a long time ago eight or ten years, to be exact and a good many miles from England. The cases were somewhat similar, judging from the scanty outline you have given me, and What's that? No, the criminal was never apprehended. He got away, and his methods were never generally known.
And to that remarkable programme he rigidly adhered from that time forth, always giving the police twelve hours' notice, always evading their traps and snares, always carrying out his plans in spite of them, and always, on the morning after, sending some trinket or trifle to Superintendent Narkom at Scotland Yard.
Sit down and tell me all about it." "The dickens of it is there doesn't seem to be much to tell," said Narkom, accepting the invitation.
"I shall be able to tell you better after I have seen the parties concerned," said Cleek, after a moment's pause. "You have brought your motor, of course? Let us step into it, then, and whizz round to Captain Morrison's house. What's that? Oh, undoubtedly a case of foul play, Mr. Narkom.
The queer little one-sided smile looped up his cheek for a moment and was gone again in a twinkling. He crossed to where Mr. Narkom stood, and put a hand on his arm. "Tell me," he said, quietly, "did you ever hear of a chap squirming and moaning and doing the rest of the things that the man said Wynne was doing in the garden pathway, when a bullet had got him clean through the brain?
My dear Cleek, you don't believe that the man has been murdered?" "I don't know yet. I want to meet this Maurice Van Nant just as soon as I can, Mr. Narkom, just as soon as I can."
"By Jove! I believe you are right, my dear fellow," asserted Narkom. "I thought the name had a familiar sound as if I had, somewhere, heard it before. I suppose there is no likelihood, by any chance, that the old skinflint could have lived up to his promise and left poor Carboys something, after all, Cleek? Because, you know, if he did "
Word Of The Day