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Updated: June 16, 2025
He closed the door, then crossed to the fireplace. "After I had seen you and Miss Trevert last night, my lady," he began, "I had a talk with Mr. Jeekes, Mr. Parrish's principal secretary, who came down by car from London as soon as he heard the news. My lady, I think this is a fairly simple case!" He paused and scanned the carpet. "Mr.
"Are you in the habit, sir," the detective turned to Robin now, "of going out for walks in the dark?" Greve shrugged his shoulders. "I had been sitting in the billiard-room. It was rather stuffy, so I thought I'd like some air before tea!" "You left Miss Trevert in the billiard-room?" "Yes!" "Why?" Greve put a hand to his throat and eased his collar.
He was haunted by the look which Mary Trevert had given him as she had stood for an instant at the library door, a look of fear, of suspicion. And it made his heart ache. The great drawing-room of Harkings was ablaze with light.
"Sorry," he said, "but we are having a meeting with Miss Trevert on private business and I'm afraid we cannot take you along. Jeekes here, however, could take a message to Miss Trevert and if she wanted to see you ..." He broke off significantly and smiled slily at the secretary. Robin felt himself flush. So Jeekes had been telling tales out of school to Mr. Victor, had he?
He picked up his attache case and walked slowly to the door. A sharp exclamation broke from his lips. "Miss Trevert," he cried, "the door ... I shut it a little while back ... look, it's ajar!" The girl who stood at the fire switched on the electric light by the mantelpiece. "Is ... is ... the door defective? Doesn't it shut properly?"
"Horace," he said pleasantly, "before you go I want you to answer me a question. Think before you speak, because it's very important. When you got into the library yesterday evening through the window, you smashed the glass, didn't you?" Horace Trevert nodded. "Yes," he replied, looking hard at Robin. "Why?" "To get into the room, of course!" "Was the window bolted?" The boy stopped and thought.
"She's gone to the Continent and left no address," he said quickly. "Ask him if Lady Margaret is there," suggested Robin. Mr. Manderton spoke into the telephone again. Lady Margaret had gone to bed, Bude answered, and her ladyship was much put out by Miss Trevert gallivanting off like that by herself with only a scribbled note left to say that she had gone. Had Bude got the note? No, Mr.
That done, we can hold them if possible until we can get the Dutch police to apprehend them at the instance of Miss Trevert. Then we can communicate with the English police. It's all quite illegal, of course! You have a car, I think, Mr. Greve! You will come with us, Dr. Collingwood? Good! Then let us start at once!"
She was now a wealthy woman. Hartley Parrish's will had ensured that, he knew. But it was not the barrier of riches that Robin Greve feared. He had asked Mary Trevert to be his wife before there was any thought of her inheriting Parrish's fortune. He derived a little consolation from that reflection. At least he could not appear as a fortune-hunter in her eyes.
He looked round the circle of earnest faces. Then Horace Trevert crossed to the desk. "Robin," he said, and held out his hand, "I want to apologize. I ... we ... behaved very badly ..." Robin grasped the boy's hand. "Not a word about that, Horace, old boy," he said. "Besides, Mary is putting all that right, you know!" "She told me," replied Horace; "and, Robin, I'm tremendously glad!" "Mr. Greve!"
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