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Updated: June 1, 2025


"Manderton," he said, "these letters written on this blue paper were in code, I feel sure. Why should not this be the key? You see it bears a date 'Nov. 25. May it not refer to that letter? I found it by Parrish's body on the carpet in the library.

"Jeekes, eh?" "That's the party, sir, charged with wilful murder.... This is Commissary Boomjes, of the Rotterdam Criminal Investigation Department!" A tall man with a short black beard had approached the car. It was decided that the whole party should proceed to the Villa Bergendal immediately. Manderton sat next to Robin and the Dutch police officer perched himself on the footboard.

"It was terrible ... to die like that!" replied Mary. "It was terrible for him to lose you!" answered the young man. She gave his hand a little, tender squeeze, but relinquished it quickly as the door opened. Mr. Manderton was there, broad-shouldered and burly. Behind came Dr. Romain with a purple nose and eyes watering with the cold, Horace Trevert in plain clothes, Mr.

Why wasn't I informed? What part of the Continent has she gone to?" Mr. Manderton's questions, rapped out with a rasping vigour that recalled a machine-gun firing, brought Robin to his feet in an instant. He crossed over to the desk on which the telephone stood. Manderton placed one big palm over the transmitter and turned to Robin.

Manderton crossed one leg over the other and, his finger-tips pressed together, looked at Robin. "Will you help me?" he asked simply. "Do you want my help?" Mr. Manderton nodded. "Allies, then?" "Allies it is!" Robin pointed to the table. "It's dry work talking," he said. "Won't you take a drink?" "Thanks, I don't drink. But I'll have a cigar if I may. Thank you!"

Robin turned to find Mr. Manderton, large and impressive, at his elbow. "Might I have a word with you?" Robin followed the detective across the room to the window. Mr. Manderton seemed a trifle embarrassed. "Er Mr. Greve," he said, clearing his throat rather nervously, "I should like to er, offer you my congratulations on the remarkably accurate view you took of this case.

Just about the time that he made this resolve, Robin in his rooms in the Temple was hanging up the receiver of his telephone with a dazed expression in his eyes. Mr. Manderton had rung him up with a piece of intelligence which fairly bewildered him. It bewildered Mr. Manderton also, as the detective was frank enough to acknowledge.

Manderton told me himself, Miss Trevert," he affirmed, "that the verdict would be, 'Suicide while temporarily insane, on Sir Winterton Maire's evidence alone ..." Mary Trevert tapped the ground impatiently with her foot. "Manderton will get at the truth, I tell you," she said. "He's that kind of man. Do you want me to find out from them? At the inquest, perhaps?"

Manderton and I are old friends," he said. "How are you, Manderton? I didn't expect you to recognize me in these duds ..." "I'd know you anywhere, sir," said the detective with unwonted cordiality. "Have you got your warrant, Manderton?" asked Herr Schulz. "Aye, I have, sir," replied the detective. "And I've a colleague from the Dutch police who's going along with me to effect the arrest ..."

He stepped across to the window and bending down, peered cautiously round the curtain. Robin Greve laughed. "Bah!" he said, "they can't touch me!" "You're wrong," Bruce retorted without changing his position. "They can and they will. Don't think Manderton is a fool, Robin. He means mischief ..." Robin raised his eyebrows. "Does he?" he said. "Now I wonder who told you that ..."

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