The Mystery of the Four FingersWhite, Fred M. (Fred Merrick)
General
The Mystery of the Four Fingers
White, Fred M. (Fred Merrick)
Detective and mystery stories
"But she would decline to do anything of the kind," Venner protested.
"She has told me that her lips are sealed; she has even no explanation to
offer for the way in which she left me within half-an-hour of our
becoming man and wife. I should almost be justified in forcing her to
speak; but, you see, I cannot do that. Therefore, I must treat her in a
way as if she were one of our enemies. I have a very strong fancy for
paying a visit to our cripple friend, and, if the worst came to the
worst, we could convince him that we are emphatically not on the side of
Mark Fenwick. At any rate, I mean to have a try, and if you don't like to
come in--"
"Oh, I'll come in fast enough," Gurdon said. "You had better meet me
to-morrow night at my rooms, say, about eleven; then, we will see what we
can do with a view to a solution of the mystery."
At the appointed time, Venner duly put in an appearance. He was clothed
in a dark suit and cap, Gurdon donning a similar costume. Under his arm
Venner had a small brown paper parcel.
"What have you got there?" Gurdon asked.
"A pair of tennis shoes," was the response. "And if you take my advice,
you should have a pair, too. My idea is to take off our boots directly we
get into the seclusion of the garden and change into these shoes. Now
come along, let's get it over."
It was an easy matter to reach the garden without being observed, and in
a very short time the two friends were standing close to the windows of
the large room at the back of the house. There was not so much as a
glimmer of light to be seen anywhere within. Very cautiously they felt
their way along until they came at length to the grating through which
Gurdon had made so dramatic an entrance on the night before. He took
from his pocket a box of vestas, and ventured to strike one. He held it
down close to the ground, shading the tiny point of flame in the hollow
of his hand.
"Here is a bit of luck to begin with," he chuckled. "They haven't
fastened this grating up again. I suppose my escape last night must have
upset them. At any rate, here is a way into the house without running the
risk of being arrested on a charge of burglary, and if the police did
catch us we should find it an exceedingly awkward matter to frame an
excuse carefully, to satisfy a magistrate."
"That seems all right," Venner said. "When we get into the cellar it's
any odds that we find the door of the stairs locked. I don't suppose the
grating has been forgotten. You see, it is not such an easy matter to get
the British workman to do a job on the spur of the moment."
"Well, come along; we will soon ascertain that," Gurdon said. "Once down
these steps, we shall be able to use our matches."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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