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For nearly four miles the chase continued. It was now nearly eight, and Constable Walker reflected with a transient feeling of regret that Lured by Love would then be in full swing. All immediate indications of the city had been left behind. The country was now suburban, the road being lined by detached and semidetached villas, with an occasional field bearing a Building Ground to Let notice. The night was warm and very quiet. There was still light in the west, but an occasional star was appearing eastwards. Soon it would be quite dark.
The men stopped and stood motionless looking down at the still form. Felix was standing rigid, his face blanched, his eyes protruding, horror stamped on his features. The Chief spoke in a low tone,
As the door closed, a furious passion of hate burned up in me for this woman who had ruined my lifewho had not only ruined it, but who was still blocking out any chance of happiness I might have had. And also I furiously and jealously hated Felix for being the cause, however innocent, of my loss. And then suddenly I felt as ifperhaps I should say I felt thata devil had entered and taken possession of me. I became deadly cold and I had the strange feeling that I myself was not really there, but that I was watching some one else. I slipped out my key, noiselessly opened the door, and followed my wife into the drawing-room. Her calm, nonchalant walk across the room roused me to still wilder fury. How well I knew her every motion. This was the way she would have turned to greet me when I arrived from the works, with cold politenesswhen it might have been so different. . . .
Yes, and it would give a two-fold reason for his working for Felixs conviction; first, self-defence by shifting over the suspicion, and, second, revenge on the man who had spoilt his home.
A bath and breakfast at the Central Hotel made him feel fresh and fit as he sallied forth to keep his appointment in Angus Lane, Sauchiehall Street. Ten oclock was chiming from the city towers as he pushed open the office door of No. 327, which bore the legend, Mr. Henry Gordon, Wholesale Tea Merchant. That gentleman was expecting him, and he was ushered into his private room without delay.
M. Lefarge did so, and spoke for the first time.
The information I want is this. Can you put me in touch with this young lady? Do you know her address?
Perhaps I had better begin by explaining our business to you. It is in reality three businesses carried on simultaneously by one firm. First, we make plaster casts of well-known pieces. They are not valuable and sell for very little. Secondly, we make monuments, tombstones, decorative stone panels and the like for buildings, rough work, but fairly good. Lastly we trade in really fine sculpture, acting as agents between the artists and the public. We have usually a considerable number of such good pieces in our showroom. It was one of these latter, a 1400 franc group, that was ordered by M. Felix.
No. Thats one of the things I wanted to ask you about. I am not quite sure how you get an order.
Suzanne Daudet identifies pin as Madames property.
THIS book introduced to the public a new Master of Detective Fiction, and Mr. Crofts is now a very famous name indeed to the many enthusiastic students of detective novels. It has all the great virtues; a mysterious murder cunningly conceived and carried out; the strongest suspicion ingeniously thrown on an innocent man; a subtle alibi brilliantly shattered by an unfaltering process of analysis. The book is flawless in design and presents an intellectual problem of supreme interest. The lover of detective stories can want nothing better. As the Outlook said, In construction and invention Mr. Crofts has no living equal.
I wrote the letter in the round hand of a junior clerk, signing it The I. and C. S. N. Co., Ltd., per in the same hand, and Avery with an undecipherable initial in another kind of writing, and another per, and then two not very clear initials. I hoped in this way to mislead Harkness, if he happened to know the genuine signature.
This was agreed to, and they lunched at one of the comfortable restaurants on the Boulevard. When they returned to the shop the cart was waiting.
The dray was backed in until the cask stood beneath the blocks. Both men with some apparent difficulty got the sling fixed, and then pulling on the chain loop, slowly raised the cask.
You have seen it? The speaker moved excitedly about the cell, gesticulating freely. Really, Mr. Clifford, this is too much. I tell you I wrote no such letter. You are making a mistake.
Just a few minutes later. I went direct.
He turned into the lane and walked slowly down it, scrutinising the roadway as he had done the drive. Three separate times he stopped to examine and measure footmarks, the third occasion being close by the little gate in the hedge.
And what time was that?
Oh, no, she said, nothing of the sort. M. Boirac told me the following Monday, that is, two days after the typewriter business, that he was reorganising his office and would do with a typist less. As I was the last arrival, I had to go. He said he wished to carry out the alterations immediately so that I might leave at once. He gave me a months salary instead of notice, and a good testimonial which I have here. We parted quite friends.
Yes, I certainly should.
La Touche nodded.