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
They parted at that, and Vera made her way back to the house. She saw
that the letters were no longer on the hall table, and therefore she
concluded that they had been posted. She assumed a quiet, dignified
manner during the rest of the evening. She treated Fenwick more or less
distantly, as if she were still offended with his suspicions. Fenwick, on
the other hand, was more than usually amiable. Something had evidently
pleased him, and he appeared to be doing his best to wipe out the
unpleasant impression of the morning. Vera felt quite easy in her mind
now; she knew that her ruse had been absolutely successful. All the same,
she ignored Fenwick's request of a little music, professing to be
exceedingly tired, which, indeed, was no more than the truth.
"I am going to bed quite early to-night," she said. "I have been sleeping
very indifferently of late."
It was barely ten before she was in her room, and there she lay,
oblivious of all that was taking place around her, till she woke
presently with an idea that she could hear the sound of hammering close
by. As she sat up in bed with all her senses about her, she could hear
the great stable clock strike the hour of three. Her ears had not
deceived her; the sound of metal meeting metal in a kind of musical chink
came distinct and clear. Then from somewhere near she could hear voices.
The thing was very strange, seeing that Fenwick was a business man pure
and simple, and that he had never confessed to any knowledge of
mechanics. It came back to her mind now, that directly she had entered
the house Fenwick had greeted her in a suit of blue overalls which she
understood men who followed mechanical pursuits generally wore. She
recollected, too, that his hands were black and grimy. What could be
going on, and why had she seen nothing of this during the day-time? She
could comprehend men sitting up all night and working in a factory, but
surely there could be no occasion for a thing like this in a private
house, unless, perhaps, Fenwick and his satellites were engaged in some
pursuit that needed careful concealment from the eyes of the law.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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