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Updated: June 16, 2025
Manderton, sir, he had not. But Lady Margaret had shown it to him. It had simply stated that Miss Trevert had gone off to the Continent and would be back in a few days. Again the detective turned to Robin at his elbow. "These country bumpkins!" he said savagely. "I must go to the Yard and get Humphries on the 'phone. He may have telegraphed me about it.
He had dropped his eyes to the ground now and was studying the pattern of the hearth-rug. "You say you heard no shot?" he suddenly asked Robin. "No!" "No one other than Miss Trevert, I gather, heard the shot?" "That is so!" Mr. Manderton consulted a slip of paper which he drew from his pocket. "Inspector Humphries," he said, "has drawn up a rough time-table of events leading up to Mr.
He had a yellow face and small black eyes quick and full of intelligence. Then he bowed. "My name is Victor," he said. "The sad news about Mr. Parrish was a great shock to me. I met him several times in London. Were you anxious to see Miss ... er ... Trevert? Parrish had in hand at the time of his death. Did I understand you to say that you were uneasy about this lady?
Propped up against the large crystal ink-well was a letter addressed simply "Miss Mary Trevert" in Hartley Parrish's big, vigorous, and sprawling handwriting. The letter to Mary Trevert, Robin did not touch. But he picked up the long brown envelope. On the back it bore a printed seal. The envelope contained a document and a letter. At the sight of it the young man started.
Heever, the housekeeper, and Robert, the chauffeur, at a friendly game of bridge. And they even boomed distantly into the far-away billiard-room and broke into the talk which Robin Greve was having with Mary Trevert. "Damn!" exclaimed Greve savagely, as the distant gonging came to his ears. "It's the gong for tea," said Mary demurely.
Romain, nursing his knee on a leather settee, Horace Trevert, a tall slim figure eagerly watching the detective from his perch on the arm of the Chesterfield, and Robin and Mary, standing, very close together, behind the empty chair at the desk each and every one was listening with rapt attention.
Jeekes, rubbing the palms of his hands together, "he did a great deal for me. Took me out of a City office where I was getting two pound five a week. That's what he did. It was a shipping firm. I tell you this because it has a bearing, Miss Trevert, on what is to follow. Why did he pick me? I'll tell you.
I consequently assumed that you must have taken away the letter seen by Robin Greve ..." Mr. Jeekes drew in his breath with a sucking sound. It was a little trick of his when about to speak. "So you saw Miss Trevert at Harkings, eh?" Bruce laughed. "I did," he said. "We had quite a dramatic meeting, too it was like a scene from a film!" And, with a little good-humoured exaggeration, he gave Mr.
Bude's face appeared in the doorway. He had a short altercation with the Inspector, who resolutely interposed his massive form between the butler and the room. "What is it, Bude?" asked Robin, going to the door. "It's a letter for Miss Trevert, sir!" said Bude. "Well, leave it in the hall. Miss Trevert can't be disturbed at present ..." "But ... but, sir," the butler protested.
"You're quite right," retorted the girl, "they do!" "Then why have you kept it from them?" Mary Trevert dropped her eyes and a little band of crimson flushed into her cheeks. "Because," she commenced, "because ... well, because they are trying to implicate a friend of mine ..." The Major took the girl's hand. "Mary," he said, "I've known you all your life.
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