Detective and mystery stories, English; Private investigators -- England -- Fiction
"I'm sorry to give you this trouble, Mr. Lloyd," he said, "but I must stay
here myself for a little, and somebody who can be trusted must go. Will
you just bring back a police-constable with you? or rather two--two would
be better. That is all that is wanted. You won't let the servants know,
will you? Of course there will be a female searcher at the Twyford
police-station? Ah--of course. Well, you needn't bring her, you know. That
sort of thing is done at the station." And, chatting thus confidentially,
Martin Hewitt saw him off.
When Hewitt returned to the smoking-room, Sir James said, suddenly: "Why,
bless my soul, Mr. Hewitt, we haven't fed you! I'm awfully sorry. We came
in rather late for lunch, you know, and this business has bothered me so I
clean forgot everything else. There's no dinner till seven, so you'd
better let me give you something now. I'm really sorry. Come along."
"Thank you, Sir James," Hewitt replied; "I won't take much. A few
biscuits, perhaps, or something of that sort. And, by the by, if you don't
mind, I rather think I should like to take it alone. The fact is I want to
go over this case thoroughly by myself. Can you put me in a room?"
"Any room you like. Where will you go? The dining-room's rather large, but
there's my study, that's pretty snug, or----"
"Perhaps I can go into Mr. Lloyd's room for half an hour or so; I don't
think he'll mind, and it's pretty comfortable."
"Certainly, if you'd like. I'll tell them to send you whatever they've
got."
"Thank you very much. Perhaps they'll also send me a lump of sugar and a
walnut; it's--it's a little fad of mine."
"A--what? A lump of sugar and a walnut?" Sir James stopped for a moment,
with his hand on the bell-rope. "Oh, certainly, if you'd like it;
certainly," he added, and stared after this detective with curious tastes
as he left the room.
When the vehicle, bringing back the secretary and the policeman, drew up
on the drive, Martin Hewitt left the room on the first floor and proceeded
down-stairs. On the landing he met Sir James Norris and Mrs. Cazenove, who
stared with astonishment on perceiving that the detective carried in his
hand the parrot-cage.
"I think our business is about brought to a head now," Hewitt remarked, on
the stairs. "Here are the police officers from Twyford." The men were
standing in the hall with Mr. Lloyd, who, on catching sight of the cage in
Hewitt's hand, paled suddenly.
"This is the person who will be charged, I think," Hewitt pursued,
addressing the officers, and indicating Lloyd with his finger.
"What, Lloyd?" gasped Sir James, aghast. "No--not Lloyd--nonsense!"
"He doesn't seem to think it nonsense himself, does he?" Hewitt placidly
observed. Lloyd had sank on a chair, and, gray of face, was staring
blindly at the man he had run against at the office door that morning. His
lips moved in spasms, but there was no sound. The wilted flower fell from
his button-hole to the floor, but he did not move.
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