Fire-Tongue by Sax Rohmer


Main
- books.jibble.org



My Books
- IRC Hacks

Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare

External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd

books.jibble.org

Previous Page | Next Page

Page 42

"The pinch has come," said Harley. "I am going to interview the
two most important witnesses in the Abingdon case."

"To whom do you refer, Mr. Harley?"

Innes stared rather blankly, as he made the inquiry, whereupon:

"I have no time to explain," continued Harley. "But I have
suddenly realized the importance of a seemingly trivial incident
which I witnessed. It is these trivial incidents, Innes, which so
often contain the hidden clue."

"What! you really think you have a clue at last?"

"I do." The speaker's face grew grimly serious. "Innes, if I am
right, I shall probably proceed to one of two places: the
apartments of Ormuz Khan or the chambers of Nicol Brinn. Listen.
Remain here until I phone--whatever the hour."

"Shall I advise Wessex to stand by?"

Harley nodded. "Yes--do so. You understand, Innes, I am engaged
and not to be disturbed on any account?"

"I understand. You are going out by the private exit?"

"Exactly."

As Innes retired, quietly closing the door, Harley took up the
telephone and called Sir Charles Abingdon's number. He was
answered by a voice which he recognized.

"This is Paul Harley speaking," he said. "Is that Benson?"

"Yes, sir," answered the butler. "Good morning, sir."

"Good morning, Benson. I have one or two questions to ask you,
and there is something I want you to do for me. Miss Abingdon is
out, I presume?"

"Yes, sir," replied Benson, sadly. "At the funeral, sir."

"Is Mrs. Howett in?"

"She is, sir."

"I shall be around in about a quarter of an hour, Benson. In the
meantime, will you be good enough to lay the dining table exactly
as it was laid on the night of Sir Charles's death?"

Benson could be heard nervously clearing his throat, then:
"Perhaps, sir," he said, diffidently, "I didn't quite understand
you. Lay the table, sir, for dinner?"

"For dinner--exactly. I want everything to be there that was
present on the night of the tragedy; everything. Naturally you
will have to place different flowers in the vases, but I want to
see the same vases. From the soup tureen to the serviette rings,
Benson, I wish you to duplicate the dinner table as I remember
it, paying particular attention to the exact position of each
article. Mrs. Howett will doubtless be able to assist you in
this."

"Very good, sir," said Benson--but his voice betokened
bewilderment. "I will see Mrs. Howett at once, sir."

"Right. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, sir."

Replacing the receiver, Harley took a bunch of keys from his
pocket and, crossing the office, locked the door. He then retired
to his private apartments and also locked the communicating door.
A few moments later he came out of "The Chancery Agency" and
proceeded in the direction of the Strand. Under cover of the
wire-gauze curtain which veiled the window he had carefully
inspected the scene before emerging. But although his eyes were
keen and his sixth sense whispered "Danger--danger!" he had failed
to detect anything amiss.

Previous Page | Next Page


Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Fri 16th Jan 2026, 13:59