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
"Very well," he said, with an almost grotesque attempt at good-humor.
"You look very tired tonight, and I daresay you have had a fatiguing
journey--and, after all, there is no great hurry. I will show you up to
the room which I have set apart for your use."
Vera was only too glad to get away. Despite her strange surroundings, and
despite the sense of coming danger, she threw herself on the bed and
slept the sleep of utter exhaustion. It was getting towards noon before
she came back to herself, invigorated and refreshed by her long rest.
So far as the girl could see, there were no servants in the house at
present besides an old retainer of the family and her husband. Fenwick
had made some excuse about the staff of domestics who were to follow
later on; but up to now he only had about him the men whom Vera had known
more or less well for the last two years. The meals appeared to be served
in a remarkably irregular fashion; even the lunch was partaken of
hurriedly by Fenwick, who pleaded the pressure of business.
"I can't stop a minute," he said. "I have more to do now than I can
manage. I should just like to have a look at that letter that you have
written to Zary. There is no excuse for not doing it now, and I want to
put it in the post-bag."
"Very well," Vera said serenely. "If you will come with me to the library
you will see exactly what I write. I know you are a suspicious man and
that you don't trust anybody, therefore I shall be very glad for you to
know that I have carried out your request to the letter."
Fenwick laughed as if something had pleased him. Nevertheless, he looked
over Vera's shoulder until she had penned the last word. She slowly
folded up the communication and sealed it.
"How am I to address the envelope?" she said. "I have not the slightest
idea where Zary is to be found. For all I know to the contrary, he may
not even be in England."
"Oh, yes, he is," Fenwick chuckled. "He is in London at the present
moment. If you address that letter, 17, Paradise Street, Camberwell, Zary
will be in receipt of it to-morrow morning."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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