American fiction -- 20th century; Detective and mystery stories; Jewelry theft -- Fiction
Mr. Brison got red in the face and puffed out his lips, as if he was
going to say something, but decided not to. He scribbled some more,
and then, looking at what he had written as if he was reading it over,
says:
“If that’s the case, there’s very little doubt as to who planned and
executed this robbery.”
“That’s a very comfortable state of affairs to arrive at,” says Mr.
Gilsey, “and I hope it’s the correct one.” And that was all he said
that time about what he thought.
After this we stayed on at Burridge’s for the rest of the season, but
it was not half as cheerful or gay as it had been before. My lord was
often moody and cross, for he felt the loss of the diamonds bitterly;
and my lady was out of spirits and moped, for she was very fond of him,
and to have him take it this way seemed to upset her. Mr. Brison or Mr.
Gilsey were constantly popping in and murmuring in the sitting-room,
but they got no further on--at least, there was no talk of finding the
diamonds, which was all that counted.
This is all I know of the theft of the necklace. What happened at that
time, and what Mr. Gilsey calls “the surrounding circumstances of the
case,” I have tried to put down as clearly and as simply as possible. I
have gone over them so often, and been forced to be so careful, that I
think they will be found to be quite correct in every particular.
Statement of Lilly Bingham, known in England as Laura Brice, in the
United States as Frances Latimer, to the police of both countries as
Laura the Lady, besides having recently figured as a housemaid at
Burridge’s Hotel, London, under the alias of Sara Dwight.
Statement of Lilly Bingham, known in England as Laura Brice, in the
United States as Frances Latimer, to the police of both countries as
Laura the Lady, besides having recently figured as a housemaid at
Burridge’s Hotel, London, under the alias of Sara Dwight.
I never was so glad of anything in my life as to get out of that
beastly hole, Chicago. I’ll certainly never go back there unless there
is an inducement big enough to compensate for the elevated railroad,
the lake, the noise, the winds, the restaurants, the climate, and the
people. Ugh, what a nightmare!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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