The Heart of a MysterySpeight, T. W. (Thomas Wilkinson)
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The Heart of a Mystery
Speight, T. W. (Thomas Wilkinson)
English fiction -- 19th century; Mystery and detective stories
"I shall be about half an hour yet. I will let myself out when I am
ready. I suppose everyone else has gone?"
"Yes, sir; some time ago."
"That will do. You need not trouble further."
Sweet retired and shut the door very gently. Then he stood on the mat
for a few moments, rubbing his nose thoughtfully.
"I could a' sworn I heard somebody shut the front door," he muttered;
"and yet Mr. Judd went away more than an hour ago. I suppose I'm
getting old and stoopid."
He tried the front door and found it fast. Then he opened the door of
the general office and peeped in, but all was darkness there.
Satisfied that he must have been mistaken, Sweet made his way
downstairs to his cosy little room and lighted his pipe. His wife had
gone to bed by this time, and he sat for nearly an hour, smoking and
sipping occasionally at his mug of beer, and listening for the sounds
of Mr. Hazeldine's departure. But Sweet's listening was in vain; no
sound broke the silence. By-and-bye he put his pipe down and finished
his beer. The room was warm and the ale was old; Sweet's eyelids
drooped, shut, opened and shut again: the night-watchman was asleep.
This was no uncommon occurrence during his long, lonely vigils; but he
had a happy knack of waking up, alert and fresh, at the end of about
half an hour. So it was in the present instance. Sweet awoke with a
start and a shiver. The fire had burned low, and the clock pointed to
half-past eleven. "The Guv'nor must surely have gone by this time," he
said to himself, as he got up and yawned. Then he lighted his lantern
and went upstairs.
Placing his lantern on one of the chairs in the corridor, he went to
the door of Mr. Hazeldine's room and knocked. He was not going to make
a breach in his manners again. But there came no response. He waited a
few seconds, and then he opened the door and looked in. Everything was
in darkness, as he had expected it would be; both the gas and the fire
were out. Sweet shut and locked the door, the key being outside. Then
he bolted and barred the heavy front door, and after a final glance
into the other offices, he locked them also. His last act was to
extinguish the gas in the corridor, after which his duties were over
for another hour.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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