"
"Have you shown it to anyone else?" asked Sir Lulworth, reaching out his
hand for the incriminating piece of paper.
"No," said Egbert, handing it across the table, "I thought I would tell
you about it first. Heavens, what are you doing?"
Egbert's voice rose almost to a scream. Sir Lulworth had flung the paper
well and truly into the glowing centre of the grate. The small, neat
handwriting shrivelled into black flaky nothingness.
"What on earth did you do that for?" gasped Egbert. "That letter was our
one piece of evidence to connect Sebastien with the crime."
"That is why I destroyed it," said Sir Lulworth.
"But why should you want to shield him?" cried Egbert; "the man is a
common murderer."
"A common murderer, possibly, but a very uncommon cook."
DUSK
Norman Gortsby sat on a bench in the Park, with his back to a strip of
bush-planted sward, fenced by the park railings, and the Row fronting him
across a wide stretch of carriage drive. Hyde Park Corner, with its
rattle and hoot of traffic, lay immediately to his right. It was some
thirty minutes past six on an early March evening, and dusk had fallen
heavily over the scene, dusk mitigated by some faint moonlight and many
street lamps. There was a wide emptiness over road and sidewalk, and yet
there were many unconsidered figures moving silently through the half-
light, or dotted unobtrusively on bench and chair, scarcely to be
distinguished from the shadowed gloom in which they sat.
Pages:
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104