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The Middle Temple Murder. J. S. Fletcher
Читать онлайн.Название The Middle Temple Murder
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9788027220038
Автор произведения J. S. Fletcher
Издательство Bookwire
J. S. Fletcher
The Middle Temple Murder
Crime Thriller
Published by
Books
- Advanced Digital Solutions & High-Quality eBook Formatting -
2017 OK Publishing
ISBN 978-80-272-2003-8
Table of Contents
Chapter I. The Scrap of Grey Paper
Chapter III. The Clue of the Cap
Chapter IV. The Anglo-Orient Hotel
Chapter V. Spargo Wishes to Specialize
Chapter VI. Witness to a Meeting
Chapter VIII. The Man From the Safe Deposit
Chapter IX. The Dealer in Rare Stamps
Chapter XI. Mr. Aylmore is Questioned
Chapter XIV. The Silver Ticket
Chapter XVI. The "Yellow Dragon"
Chapter XVII. Mr. Quarterpage Harks Back
Chapter XVIII. An Old Newspaper
Chapter XIX. The Chamberlayne Story
Chapter XX. Maitland alias MARBURY
Chapter XXVII. Mr. Elphick's Chambers
Chapter XXVIII. Of Proved Identity
Chapter XXIX. The Closed Doors
Chapter XXXI. The Penitent Window-Cleaner
Chapter XXXII. The Contents of the Coffin
Chapter XXXVI. The Final Telegram
Chapter I. The Scrap of Grey Paper
As a rule, Spargo left the Watchman office at two o'clock. The paper had then gone to press. There was nothing for him, recently promoted to a sub-editorship, to do after he had passed the column for which he was responsible; as a matter of fact he could have gone home before the machines began their clatter. But he generally hung about, trifling, until two o'clock came. On this occasion, the morning of the 22nd of June, 1912, he stopped longer than usual, chatting with Hacket, who had charge of the foreign news, and who began telling him about a telegram which had just come through from Durazzo. What Hacket had to tell was interesting: Spargo lingered to hear all about it, and to discuss it. Altogether it was well beyond half-past two when he went out of the office, unconsciously puffing away from him as he reached the threshold the last breath of the atmosphere in which he had spent his midnight. In Fleet Street the air was fresh, almost to sweetness, and the first grey of the coming dawn was breaking faintly around the high silence of St. Paul's.
Spargo lived in Bloomsbury, on the west side of Russell Square. Every night and every morning he walked to and from the Watchman office by the same route—Southampton Row, Kingsway, the Strand, Fleet Street. He came to know several faces, especially amongst the police; he formed the habit of exchanging greetings with various officers whom he encountered at regular points as he went slowly homewards, smoking his pipe. And on this morning, as he drew near to Middle Temple Lane, he saw a policeman whom he knew, one Driscoll, standing at the entrance, looking about him. Further away another policeman appeared, sauntering. Driscoll raised an arm and signalled; then, turning, he saw Spargo. He moved a step or two towards him. Spargo saw news in his face.
"What is it?" asked Spargo.
Driscoll jerked a thumb over his shoulder,