Riddle of the Spinning Wheel

W. Hanshew Thomas

Description

Hamilton Cleek is a renaissance man for the ages: an intellectual giant with the brawn of ten men, he serves as a consulting detective, often helping Scotland Yard with particularly challenging cases. In The Riddle of the Spinning Wheel, Cleek finds himself at the center of a confounding whodunit. Will this be the mystery that finally pushes him over the edge?

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 février 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776532339
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE RIDDLE OF THE SPINNING WHEEL
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THOMAS W. HANSHEW
MARY E. HANSHEW
 
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The Riddle of the Spinning Wheel First published in 1922 Epub ISBN 978-1-77653-233-9 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77653-234-6 © 2013 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - The Girl from Scotland Chapter II - Cleek to the Rescue Chapter III - The Castle o' Dreams Chapter IV - The Morning Call Chapter V - A Startling Discovery Chapter VI - When the Sword Fell Chapter VII - The Summons Chapter VIII - When the Blow Fell Chapter IX - A Double Tragedy Chapter X - The Woman in the Case? Chapter XI - A New Clue Chapter XII - Cleek Makes a Startling Assertion Chapter XIII - Mr. Narkom Voices an Opinion Chapter XIV - In Which Rhea Takes a Hand Chapter XV - Another Fly in the Web Chapter XVI - "Tens!" Chapter XVII - A Pair of Boots Chapter XVIII - Enter Cyril Chapter XIX - Dollops Makes a Discovery Chapter XX - "Pins and Needles" Chapter XXI - "A Lunnon Gentleman" Chapter XXII - Damning Evidence Chapter XXIII - A Startling Dénouement Chapter XXIV - Hare and Hounds Chapter XXV - The Man in the Black Mask Chapter XXVI - The End in Sight Chapter XXVII - What Happened in the Library Chapter XXVIII - The Secret of the Singing Wheel Chapter XXIX - "As a Tale that was Told"
Chapter I - The Girl from Scotland
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Mr. Maverick Narkom, Superintendent of Scotland Yard, looked up from theletter he was perusing, a wrinkle in his brow and one hand spread outover the sheet to keep it open, as the sound of a soft knock brokethrough the stillness, and with an exasperation born of the knottyproblem upon which he was at work, called out an irritable "Come in."
Inspector Petrie's head appeared in the aperture, stiff hand at thesalute.
"I know you wasn't to be disturbed, sir," he began apologetically, "butthere's a leddy come to see you. Seemed distressed, and said it wasurgent, and begged me for the love of 'even to let her in."
"And, being a religious man, you succumbed, of course," rapped out Mr.Narkom in a tone of exasperation. "Oh, well, where's her card? What withone thing and another, this morning's work has practically gone toblazes. Not a minute's peace, by James! What's the lady's name, Petrie?"
Inspector Petrie came forward, a strip of pasteboard in his hand uponwhich was engraved a name and something written in a woman's handunderneath.
" Miss Maud Duggan. H'm. Scotch, I take it. And what's this! Schoolfriend of Miss Ailsa Lorne. —Ailsa Lorne, eh? Haven't heard from her ina month of Sundays. Said her business was important—eh, Petrie?"
"Very important, sir."
"Oh, well, then, show her up. This cipher business requires entirequiet, and so long as I can't seem to enforce that, I might as wellattend to the matter in hand."
"Very good, sir." Bowing, Petrie withdrew. Meanwhile Mr. Narkom slippedhis arms into his coat—it was June, and the heat-wave had London in itsgrip, and allied with an equally warm problem he had thought himselffully justified in shedding it—and sat at his desk, drumming hisfingers upon the top of it to the tune of "God Save the King."
A moment later "Miss Maud Duggan" was standing before him—a slim,pale-faced woman with dark-ringed eyes and a twitching, nervous mouth.She came toward him, hands clasped over heaving breast, entire bodyaflame with the intensity of her quest. Mr. Narkom, waving her to a seatwith none too much cordiality, mentally labelled her "highly strung,"and seated himself with an effort to interest himself in what she had tosay.
"Miss Duggan, I believe?" he began, with a creditable attempt atcordiality. "Friend of Miss Lorne's?"
"That's right," she said in a hesitating voice, with just a trace ofScotch accent that told of the part of the British Isles which gave herbirth. "I am a friend of Ailsa's—an old school friend—although wehaven't seen each other for a matter of five years. But I wrote toher—when the trouble began—and she told me to come to you. Here is herletter, if you care to see it."
"I prefer to listen to your version of the story first, my dear younglady," returned Mr. Narkom, with a reassuring smile. She was palpablynervous. "You are in trouble, of course? No one ever visits theseoffices for any other reason. Now just set yourself at ease and tell meall about it. Is it a family matter, or what?"
"Yes, it is a family matter. And a very serious one at that, Mr.Narkom," returned Miss Duggan in her rapid voice. "And I am so worried Idon't know which way to turn—and so, in desperation, I came down—allthe way from Scotland—to consult you. You will help me, I know. It isabout my father. His life is in danger, in very grave danger, and I amafraid that even now, while I am away, something may happen to him, andthat woman practise her cunning successfully at last."
"In danger?" Mr. Narkom sat forward in his chair, his professionalinstincts awake at the word. "Who is the woman of whom you speak, MissDuggan, and why should she have designs on your father's life? Begin atthe beginning and tell me where you live, and all about it. There'splenty of time, you know. Things don't happen so rapidly as a lot of youyoung people imagine. You are Scotch, are you not?"
"I am. And my father is Sir Andrew Duggan, of whom you have no doubtheard. He—he has large possessions in Scotland. A big landowner, youknow—"
"And a hard one," said Mr. Narkom mentally, recalling certain paragraphsabout the gentleman which appeared from time to time in the Scotchpapers.
"Our home is at Aygon—Aygon Castle, in Argyllshire. And there are twoof us by our father's first marriage—my brother Ross and me. Ross, asyou know, is heir to the estates, of course, as eldest son of the line(that part of them which is entailed); but some seventeen years ago myfather married again, an Italian woman whom he met upon one of hisperiodical journeys abroad."
"And this is the woman in question?"
"It is!" Her voice ran up a tiny scale of excitement. She shut herhands together and breathed hard, and leaning forward in her seat, lether big dark eyes dwell a moment upon his face. "That woman is awould-be murderer, a fiend incarnate, prompted to heaven knows whatawful action by her ambitions for her son Cyril!"
"Your father's child?"
"My father's child. Cyril is sixteen this birthday—a nice lad, but withall the Latin traits of his mother's race—those traits which mix sobadly with our Scotch character, Mr. Narkom. Paula has planned thisthing from the beginning—slowly, secretly, steadily. She has planned towrest the estates from Ross, to turn his own father against him, so thatat the last he will remake his will and leave all that he possesses toCyril—and rob Ross of his rightful inheritance!"
"My dear lady, have you any foundation for believing this?" put in Mr.Narkom at this juncture, as she paused. "An ambitious woman is notnecessarily a potential murderess, you know."
"But this one is. One can see it in her eyes when she looks at Ross, andone can read it in every gesture—every thought that passes across herface. She is a dangerous woman, Mr. Narkom, who will stop at nothing.Her own father, I believe, had a career that was shrouded in mystery, sofar as we can trace, but there was theft in it, and crime, too—thatmuch I have ascertained. His daughter is the fitting descendant of thefamily. I repeat, there is nothing she will stop at—nothing!—and nowthat Ross has taken up with this electricity installation—he has beenmad on engineering ever since he was big enough to toddle, but Fatherwould not permit him to go in for it—Lady Paula has used it to her owndesperate plans, and has practically succeeded in turning Father againstRoss, so that the two hardly speak when they meet, and avoid each otheras much as possible in the daily round of life."
"And what, my dear young lady, makes you think that—er—Lady Paulawould wish to murder your father?"
"My eyes—and my ears, too. Both of which are sharper than one mightimagine. When Paula mixes my father's food—he is an old man and full ofwhims and cranks, Mr. Narkom, and he has been much attached to hissecond wife and trusts her absolutely—and at night he takesbread-and-milk for supper, nothing else. And no one but Paula must makeit. She has a little sitting-room of her own just off my father's study,where there is a little gas-stove and all the necessary paraphernaliafor mixing an invalid's food, and last week I made a point of going into watch her—found an excuse to get some note-paper and stepped intothe room quietly. She was stirring the milk in the saucepan, and in herhand was a little phial of some whitish powder which she was just aboutto empty into it when the sound of my step startled her. Instantly sheswung round, went as pale as death, and clapped her hand to her heart.'How you startled me!' she exclaimed. 'You should not enter the room sosoftly, Maud. It is dangerous.' 'Not more dangerous than what you are atpresent doing,' I wanted to answer, but I dared not. I had no proof, andto accuse her without it might only make Father turn entirely from Rossand me in his quick-tempered, irascible fashion. But she slipped thephial into her pocket and finished making the bread-and-milk while Ifumbled in the stand where the house paper is kept, all the timewatching her from the tail of my eye. And I could see how her handstrembled, Mr. Narkom, so that she slopped the milk over into the saucerfrom the cup. It's poisoning she is practising upon