The Dumpling : $b A detective love story of a great labour risingKernahan, Coulson
General
The Dumpling : $b A detective love story of a great labour rising
Kernahan, Coulson
Detective and mystery stories; English fiction -- 20th century
"Have you ever seen one of these?" she inquired, pointing at it. "It
is my brother's own invention, and he is thinking of patenting it.
When this button is pressed (there's one of the machines in each
room), every door leading out of the house, and every window (they
are all of plate glass) by which it would be possible to escape, is
simultaneously and automatically locked; a burglar alarm is set ringing
in the kitchen, in the hall, and in all the men-servants' rooms, as
well as in the stables; and by a particularly ingenious arrangement, of
which my brother is especially proud, communication is also established
with the nearest police station. Once inside the house, no thief, or
burglar, if this button is pressed and the machinery is set going, can
hope to escape, for he is as neatly trapped as any rat.
"Well, young man (I haven't been told your name), since it has leaked
out that my brother is a millionaire and a philanthropist, every known
dodge in the begging-letter line and in the blackmailing line has been
tried on us; but, for sheer brazenry, I must say that your tale beats
all. My niece believes in you--more fool she!--but I'll tell you what I
think: every word that you have told us--except, perhaps, the fact of
my brother having been kidnapped by this man you call the Dumpling--is
an entire concoction; and if he really has been kidnapped as you say,
why, you are clearly the kidnapper's accomplice, and have come here to
sound us, and to pave the way for the abominable blackmailing which you
call holding to ransom. If any further proof of your confederacy with
the blackmailer is needed, that proof is supplied by the facts which
my niece has just made known to me. She tells me that only yesterday
morning, when she and I were at my brother's country house, she found
that someone had rowed out to the centre of the lake in our boat, and,
supposing it was I who was in the boat and that I had fallen asleep,
she swam out and found you in it. You were there, of course, in your
capacity of spy and shadower to your employer, and in order to acquaint
yourself with my brother's movements. It's a pity she didn't leave you
to be drowned--not that you'll be that, for I clearly foresee another
fate in store for you, and a less pleasant one. And now, if you please,
I propose sending for the police. I wonder if they'll believe your
story."
"No," I said smilingly, "they won't. I can tell you that before you
send, if it will be saving you any trouble."
"Ho! ho!" she said, triumphantly. "So you admit that I'm one too many
for you. You're not such a fool as I thought. Anyhow, you're 'cute
enough to know when you're dealing with a clever woman. It's wise of
you. If you had persisted in brazening me out with that preposterous
tale, you'd have been clapped between four walls this very night. I
mean what I say. But I'm not a hard-hearted woman, and, by the look of
you, you ought to be a cut above being the accomplice of criminals and
blackmailers."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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