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Updated: June 1, 2025
"It was in there they found him," he said in a low voice, "with a hole plumb over the heart." His voice sank to a whisper. "There's blood on the carpet!" he added impressively. "I should like just to take a peep at the room, Bude," ventured the boy, casting a sidelong glance at the butler. "Can't be done, sir," said Bude, shaking his head; "orders of Detective-Inspector Manderton.
"But, see here," he said, "apparently it was to the deductions you formed from the result of that experiment that I owe the attentions of your colleagues who have been hanging round the house all day. And yet you now come to me and invite my assistance. Mr. Manderton, I don't get it at all!" "Mr. Greve," replied the detective, "Miss Trevert tried to shield you. That made me suspicious.
"Whom did he tell this to?" "Miss Trevert!" "Miss Trevert?" Robin repeated the name in amazement. "I don't understand," he said. "Why on earth should Jeekes blacken his employer's character to Miss Trevert? What conceivable motive could he have had? Did she tell you this?" "No," said Manderton; "I heard him tell her myself."
Lady Margaret rose. Her dominating personality seemed to fill the room. "We are extremely obliged to you, Mr. Manderton," she said, "for the able and discreet way in which you have handled this case. I sometimes meet the Chief Commissioner at dinner. I shall write to Sir Maurice and tell him my opinion." Mr. Manderton reddened a little. "Your ladyship is too good," he said.
He had not even got a return ticket to London. Which makes me think that Master Jeekes had left old England for good." "Another thing that puzzles me," remarked Robin, "is how Jeekes knew that Miss Trevert had a letter to you, sir? Or, for a matter of that, how he knew that she had gone to Rotterdam at all?" "That's not hard to answer," said Mr. Manderton, who had just entered the room.
Manderton remained at the switch in the hall whilst the other two men followed Robin through the door. The room was in darkness. It struck chill; for the fire had gone out. The beam of the torch flitting from wall to wall showed the room to be empty. "I don't believe there's a soul in the house," whispered the Chief to Robin. "Ve are too laite; I have said it!" muttered the Dutchman.
Robin intervened with a proposal that they should call en route at his hotel to see if there were any telegrams for him. "Manderton knows I am in Rotterdam," he explained, "and he promised to wire me the latest developments in the enquiry he is conducting."
"Friends of yours at Harkings asked me to warn you ..." began Bruce awkwardly. "My friends are scarcely in the majority there," retorted Robin. "Whom do you mean exactly?" But the boy ignored the question. "Three men watching the house!" he exclaimed; "don't you think that this looks as though Manderton meant business?" He returned to his post of observation at the curtain.
Manderton allowed his fat, serious face to expand very slowly into a broad, superior smile. "Doesn't it seem a little curious," he said, "that Mr. Hartley Parrish should choose to sit and work in the library on a gusty and dark winter evening with the window wide open? You'll allow, I think, that the window was not broken until after his death ..." Robin's nerves were ragged.
"He needn't worry," replied Manderton with a significant smile. "There's no one outside now!..." They watched Bruce Wright pass into the hall and collect his hat and coat. As the front door slammed behind him, the detective added: "I took 'em off myself soon after seven o'clock!" "Why?" asked Robin bluntly. Mr. Manderton dropped his heavy form into a chair. "I'm a plain man, Mr.
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