London (England) -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Mystery fiction
"Not likely," declared the constable. "They've gone long ago. I wonder
who they were?"
"Perhaps they thought that only Mrs Parham and Jane were at home,"
remarked the cook's brother. "And then, when they found Lane, my sister
and Emily they got frightened, and cleared out."
"Most probably," was the policeman's reply. "They were disturbed by
something; that's very evident. They intended to have the silver,
because it's easy got rid of. Perhaps it's the gang what worked Norwood
a couple of months ago. Two of 'em got five years at the Old Bailey
last week."
"They were a desperate pair, whoever they were," I said. "Men don't
carry scarves like these and chloroform all ready if they don't mean to
do some big piece of business. The affair, whatever it was, must have
been well planned."
"They had their pals outside this house, no doubt. Men like those don't
work without spies watching the house to give alarm."
His words caused me to ponder.
If one of the gang had been outside, then I had certainly been noted,
for I had stood before the gate for quite a minute. I had been noticed,
without a doubt! They knew that I had seen that thin, tall figure
crossing the room so stealthily!
Perhaps I had quite unintentionally frightened them and prevented them
from fully carrying out their object! When I had gone the spy outside
might have given the signal which caused them to make their escape.
Now that I recollected, I remembered most distinctly that while I had
spoken to the lamplighter, somebody a little distance down the road was
whistling gaily a music-hall air.
There was a muffin-man, too, who had suddenly commenced to ring his bell
as I had stopped to speak and was balancing his tray upon his head as he
passed by us, glancing into my face.
Was he the spy?
I was in the study, discussing the affair with the constable, when the
doctor was announced.
I followed him into the drawing-room and noted his surprise when he saw
Mrs Parham lying there.
Quickly he made his examination and relieved our minds by declaring that
she would before long return to consciousness.
Then he crossed to the maid Jane, placed his hand upon her heart, opened
her eyes, felt her hands, and bent the fingers.
For a long time he scrutinised her very carefully, taking up a small
mirror and holding it close to her mouth, while we stood anxiously
awaiting his verdict.
At last he turned to us, shook his grey head, and said,--
"The poor girl is dead?"
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
RELATES WHAT WE DISCOVERED.
While the doctor occupied himself with restoring the mistress of the
house to consciousness, I stood by watching, and then turned to the
window abstractedly, and awaiting my opportunity, succeeded in
transferring the photograph of the dead unknown to my overcoat pocket.
Suddenly the housemaid, on returning to the room with some water,
pointed to a corner, exclaiming,--
"Why? Look there, sir!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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