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Freeman, R. Austin (Richard Austin), 1862-1943

"and edited by R. Austin Freeman"

Brodribb rose and held out his hand.
"This is a sad home-coming for you, Alfred," said he.
"Yes, my God!" the newcomer exclaimed. "It's awful."
He looked askance at the corpse on the bed, and wiped his forehead with
his handkerchief. Alfred Calverley was not extremely prepossessing. Like
his cousin, he was obviously neurotic, but there were signs of
dissipation in his face, which, just now, was pale and ghastly, and wore
an expression of abject fear. Moreover, his entrance was accompanied by
that of a perceptible odour of brandy.
He had walked over, without noticing me, to the writing-table, and as he
stood there, talking in subdued tones with the lawyer, I suddenly found
Thorndyke at my side. He had stolen in noiselessly through the door that
Calverley had left open.
"Show him Brodribb's note," he whispered, "and then make him go in and
look at the peg."
With this mysterious request, he slipped out of the room as silently as
he had come, unperceived either by Calverley or the lawyer.
"Has Captain Raggerton returned with you?" Brodribb was inquiring.
"No, he has gone into the town," was the reply; "but he won't be long.


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