THE RED REDMAYNES by EDEN PHILLPOTTS New York The MacMillan Company 1922 BY EDEN PHILLPOTTS EUDOCIA EVANDER PLAIN SONG GREEN ALLEYS ORPHAN DINAH MISER'S MONEY THE GREY ROOM CHILDREN OF MEN A SHADOW PASSES STORM IN A TEACUP PAN AND THE TWINS THE BANKS OF COLNE CHRONICLES OF SAINT TID THE HUMAN BOY AND THE WAR CONTENTS CHAPTER I. THE RUMOUR II. THE PROBLEM STATED III. THE MYSTERY IV. A CLUE V. ROBERT REDMAYNE IS SEEN VI. ROBERT REDMAYNE IS HEARD VII. THE COMPACT VIII. DEATH IN THE CAVE IX. A PIECE OF WEDDING CAKE X. ON GRIANTE XI. MR. PETER GANNS XII. PETER TAKES THE HELM XIII. THE SUDDEN RETURN TO ENGLAND XIV. REVOLVER AND PICKAXE XV. A GHOST XVI. THE LAST OF THE REDMAYNES XVII. THE METHODS OF PETER GANNS XVIII. CONFESSION XIX. A LEGACY FOR PETER GANNS CHAPTER I THE RUMOUR Every man has a right to be conceited until he is famous--so it is said; and perhaps unconsciously, Mark Brendon shared that opinion. His self-esteem was not, however, conspicuous, although he held that only a second-rate man is diffident. At thirty-five years of age he already stood high in the criminal investigation department of the police. He was indeed about to receive an inspectorship, well earned by those qualities of imagination and intuition which, added to the necessary endowment of courage, resource, and industry, had created his present solid success. A substantial record already stood behind him, and during the war certain international achievements were added to his credit. He felt complete assurance that in ten years he would retire from government employ and open that private and personal practice which it was his ambition to establish. And now Mark was taking holiday on Dartmoor, devoting himself to his hobby of trout fishing and accepting the opportunity to survey his own life from a bird's-eye point of view, measure his achievement, and consider impartially his future, not only as a detective but as a man. Mark had reached a turning point, or rather a point from which new interests and new personal plans were likely to present themselves upon the theatre of a life hitherto devoted to one drama alone. Until now he had existed for his work only. Since the war he had been again occupied with routine labour on cases of darkness, doubt, and crime, once more living only that he might resolve these mysteries, with no personal interest at all outside his grim occupation. He had been a machine as innocent of any inner life, any spiritual ambition or selfish aim, as a pair of handcuffs. This assiduity and single-hearted devotion had brought their temporal reward. He was now at last in position to enlarge his outlook, consider higher aspects of life, and determine to be a man as well as a machine.