I'm a weak-minded ass in
such matters."
The chemist busied himself to oblige the detective, wrapping and tying
the packages neatly. Furneaux insisted on paying sixpence for the paper,
string, and labor. There was quite a friendly argument, but he carried
his point.
The dog-cart then brought him to the station, where he tipped and
dismissed the man; a little later, he caught a London-bound train.
At half past seven precisely, Winter turned in through the
Knoleworth-side gate of The Hollies (there were two, the approach to
the house being semi-circular) and pushed the door open, as it was
standing ajar.
Grant was waiting in the hall, and greeted him pleasantly.
"Here's a telegram which is meant for you, I fancy," he said.
Winter read:
"Sorry to spoil your party. Compelled to travel to London. Returning
early to-morrow. F."
"That's pretty Fanny's way," smiled the Chief Inspector. "But there's
something in the wind, or he would never have hurried off in this
fashion. He tells me that the only pleasant evening he spent in
Steynholme was under your roof, Mr. Grant."
"Come along in, Don Jaime!" drawled Hart's voice from the "den," which
had been cleared of its litter, the lawn being deemed somewhat unsuitable
for the purposes of a drawing-room on that occasion.
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