Country homes -- England -- Fiction; Detective and mystery stories; Police -- England -- Fiction
Salting Towers was the residence of Sir Roger Penterton, a man who
cared nothing for the village which had happened to lie in the hollow
below the hill selected as a suitable site for his house. He was not
interested in agricultural affairs; he had chosen the locality solely
because it was sufficiently convenient for the visits he continued to
pay two and three times a week to the town in which he had pursued a
highly successful career at the head of a big business; hence an
appearance in a birthday honour list and that accretion of dignity and
pride which proclaims itself in the carriage of a Knight. He liked,
however, to fancy himself as a landed proprietor even while holding
that class in the greatest contempt as a set of idle and unthrifty
folk; the type of man of whom he was a shining example was, as he
often used to proclaim as he stood astride of the fire in hall or
smoking-room, the real backbone of the country. By years of hard work
he had built up a fine business, amassed a large fortune, and
incidentally married above himself. He had succeeded and not by any
stroke of luck, but, as he would declare, by sheer industry, and so
could any one else; he had no pity for failures. “Show me a failure
and I’ll show you an idler,” was a favourite remark of his to those
who tried to enlist his purse in aid of some charitable scheme.
As Inspector Humblethorne sat finishing his supper in the dingy
coffee-room of the Rose and Crown, he could see the grandiloquent
sweep of the drive as it crossed the park and disappeared into the
wood which shut off the Towers from the village, and idly wondered
where it led to. He had never heard of Sir Roger Penterton. The warmth
of the evening and the freshness of the air had their usual subtle
effect upon him, which the draining of a big glass of ale did nothing
to dispel. He felt mellowed, sociable and well-pleased with himself,
and heaved a big sigh to say so to all whom it might concern. It
concerned nobody; that was the one objection to an otherwise entirely
satisfactory state of things.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account