Genre Mystery & Crime. Page - 12

all just mention; it was at the time whenpress warrants were issued, on the alarm about Falkland Islands.The woman's husband was pressed, their goods seized for some debtsof his, and she, with two small children, turned into the streetsa-begging. It is a circumstance not to be forgotten, that she wasvery young (under nineteen), and most remarkably handsome. Shewent to a linen-draper's shop, took some coarse linen off thecounter, and slipped it under her cloak; the shopman saw her, andshe laid

adily enough, for, unfortunately, my professional duties were not onerous."Good man!" he cried, wringing my hand in his impetuous way. "We start now." "What, to-night? "To-night! I had thought of turning in, I must admit. I have not dared to sleep for forty-eight hours, except in fifteen-minute stretches. But there is one move that must be made to-night and immediately. I must warn Sir Crichton Davey." "Sir Crichton Davey--of the India--"

arent unconcern of any suggestion counter tohis own. He thought slowly and he spoke seldom, but when he had oncespoken the matter, so far as he was concerned, was done with. LadyAngela apparently was used to him, for she rose at once. She did notshake hands, but she nodded to me pleasantly. Colonel Ray handed herinto the wagonette, and I heard the quicker throbbing of the engine asit glided off into the darkness.It was several minutes before he returned. I began to wonder whether hehad changed

over her account. The last check but one paid her bill atLausanne, but it was a large one and probably left her with cashin hand. Only one check has been drawn since.""To whom, and where?" "To Miss Marie Devine. There is nothing to show where the checkwas drawn. It was cashed at the Credit Lyonnais at Montpellierless than three weeks ago. The sum was fifty pounds." "And who is Miss Marie Devine?" "That also I have been able to discover. Miss Marie Devine

at must happen a dozen times a day in Chicago, I thought. They don't rate ink unless it's a big-shot gangster or somebody important. A drunk rolled in an alley, and the guy who slugged him was muggled up and hit too hard or didn't care how hard he hit.It didn't rate ink. No gang angle. No love nest. The morgue gets them by the hundred. Not all murders, of course. Bums who go to sleep on a bench in Bughouse Square and don't wake up. Guys who take ten-cent beds or two-bit partitioned rooms in

l, low-storied house, of which the ground-floor was occupied by the proprietor of a dram-shop, who stood smoking in his doorway, next to the entrance-passage. Lupin asked if Mr. Hargrove was at home."Mr. Hargrove went out about half-an-hour ago," said the publican. "He seemed very much excited and took a taxi-cab, a thing he doesn't often do." "And you don't know...." "Where he was going? Well, there's no secret about it He shouted it loud enough! 'Prefecture

up in astonishment, and as Mrs MacNab ran down the street to meet them with lean hands similarly spread, and her fierce face in shadow, she was a little like a demon herself. The doctor and the priest made scant reply to her shrill reiterations of her daughter's story, with more disturbing details of her own, to the divided vows of vengeance against Mr Glass for murdering, and against Mr Todhunter for being murdered, or against the latter for having dared to want to marry her daughter, and for

large black letters on the first page, and leaped to the eyes."Late last night," it ran, "an appalling murder was committed at the Villa Rose, on the road to Lac Bourget. Mme. Camille Dauvray, an elderly, rich woman who was well known at Aix, and had occupied the villa every summer for the last few years, was discovered on the floor of her salon, fully dressed and brutally strangled, while upstairs, her maid, Helene Vauquier, was found in bed, chloroformed, with her hands tied

windows, andI bought that something might be wrong. I am very glad I did so, sinceit has given me the chance of making the general's acquaintance."Whilst I was talking, I was conscious that the new tenant of CloomberHall was peering at me very closely through the darkness. As Iconcluded, he stretched out a long, tremulous arm, and turned thegig-lamp in such a way as to throw a flood of light upon my face. "Good Heavens, McNeil!" he cried, in the same quivering voice as