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"The circus is now about to commence," he said, and the meaning of this enigmatical remark was made clear when Theydon saw what was written. "Dear Sir," it ran, "take Mr. Theydon to your room. I'll join you there immediately. C. F. Furneaux."
Furneaux, taking the three steps which led from entrance hall to pavement with a flying leap, cannoned right into Forbes, whom he grasped with both hands, quite as much by way of emphasis as to check the impetus of his diminutive body. "In with you!" he piped. "Tell your chauffeur to obey my orders, no matter what they are!" Action, determination, were as the breath of the millionaire's nostrils.
"But no one can overhear us," was the somewhat surprised comment. "How true!" said Furneaux. "Pardon me, Miss Martin. Tell the story in your own way." Doris had a good memory. She was invariably letter-perfect in a play after a couple of rehearsals, and could prompt others if they faltered. The detective listened in silence while she repeated the conversation between Siddle and herself.
So the place was sold, and Steynholme knows "the postmaster's daughter" no more. Winter and Furneaux week-ended with them recently at a pretty little nook in Dorset. Hart, just home from the Balkans, traveled from town with the detectives, and Doris, a radiant young matron, was as flippant as the best of them.
"I gave orders, at your request, Mr Winter, that no strangers were to be admitted. I must see to it that I am obeyed in future. It is surprising, too, that the police are so remiss in such an important matter." For once, Winter was perforce silent. In his heart of hearts he blamed Detective Inspector Furneaux.
"You'd turn me into a housebreaker, would you?" whined Furneaux bitterly. "I must do the job, of course, just because I'm a little one. Well, well! After a long and honorable career I have to become a sneak thief. It may cost me my pension." "There's no real difficulty. An orchard " "Bet you a new hat I went over the ground before you did."
It often happens that way when a young gentleman and young lady grow up from childhood in each other's company. They never think of marriage, whereas the same young gentleman would probably fall head over heels in love with the same young lady if he met her elsewhere." "Good!" broke in Furneaux. "Tomlinson, do you drink port?" The butler looked his astonishment, but answered readily enough
Furneaux, indeed, put it into words. "Having warned Grant off Miss Doris Martin, and been cursed for his pains, the foreman of the jury does not trouble to await further evidence, but arrives at a true and lawful verdict straight off," announced the little man. "We ought to hear things to-night," said Peters. "We?" inquired Winter. "Yes.
They gathered on the pavement, and did not attempt to walk away, though a sudden and concentrated advance was made by the two sets of loafers, while the doors of the warehouse opposite belched forth a startling array of constables in uniform. Winter and Furneaux respectively headed the contingents from north and south.
Several people will be older and wiser before the culprit is found and hanged." "What Mr. Furneaux has in mind," purred Winter cheerfully, "is the curious habit of some witnesses when questioned by the police. They arm themselves against attack, as it were. You see, Mr. Theydon, we suspect nobody. We try to ascertain facts, and hope to deduce a theory from them.
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