Robert Barr - Vintage Mysteries - 70+ Stories in One Volume (Thriller Classics Collection)

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This carefully edited collection of thriller classics and murder mysteries has been designed and formatted to the highest digital standards and adjusted for readability on all devices. The Mystery of the Five Hundred Diamonds The Siamese Twin of a Bomb-Thrower The Clue of the Silver Spoons Lord Chizelrigg's Missing Fortune The Absent-Minded Coterie The Ghost with the Club-Foot The Liberation of Wyoming Ed Lady Alicia's Emeralds The Adventures of Sherlaw Kombs The Adventure of the Second Swag An Alpine Divorce Which Was The Murderer? A Dynamite Explosion An Electrical Slip The Vengeance of the Dead Over The Stelvio Pass The Hour and the Man «And the Rigour of the Game» The Woman of Stone The Chemistry of Anarchy The Fear of It The Metamorphoses of Johnson The Reclamation of Joe Hollends The Type-Written Letter A New Explosive The Great Pegram Mystery Playing With Marked Cards The Count's Apology Converted An Invitation The Long Ladder «Gentlemen: The King!» The Hour-Glass In a Steamer Chair Mrs. Tremain A Society for the Reformation of Poker Players The Terrible Experience of Plodkins A Case of Fever How the Captain Got His Steamer Out Miss McMillan «How Finley McGillis Held the Pier» How to Write a Short Story . . . Literary Article: «Canadian literature» Robert Barr (1849–1912) was a Scottish-Canadian short story writer and novelist, born in Glasgow, Scotland. His famous detective character Eugéne Valmont, fashioned after Sherlock Holmes, is said to be the inspiration behind Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot.

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'I suppose you want me to take Podgers' position?'

'Well, Monsieur Valmont, to tell you the truth, I would rather you didn't. Podgers has done everything a man can do, but I thought if you got into the house, Podgers assisting, you might go through it night after night at your leisure.'

'I see. That's just a little dangerous in England. I think I should prefer to assure myself the legitimate standing of being the amiable Podgers' successor. You say that Summertrees has no business?'

'Well, sir, not what you might call a business. He is by the way of being an author, but I don't count that any business.'

'Oh, an author, is he? When does he do his writing?'

'He locks himself up most of the day in his study.'

'Does he come out for lunch?'

'No; he lights a little spirit lamp inside, Podgers tells me, and makes himself a cup of coffee, which he takes with a sandwich or two.'

'That's rather frugal fare for Park Lane.'

'Yes, Monsieur Valmont, it is, but he makes it up in the evening, when he has a long dinner with all them foreign kickshaws you people like, done by his French cook.'

'Sensible man! Well, Hale, I see I shall look forward with pleasure to making the acquaintance of Mr. Summertrees. Is there any restriction on the going and coming of your man Podgers?'

'None in the least. He can get away either night or day.'

'Very good, friend Hale, bring him here tomorrow, as soon as our author locks himself up in his study, or rather, I should say, as soon as the respectable clerk leaves for Tottenham Court Road, which I should guess, as you put it, is about half an hour after his master turns the key of the room in which he writes.'

'You are quite right in that guess, Valmont. How did you hit it?'

'Merely a surmise, Hale. There is a good deal of oddity about that Park Lane house, so it doesn't surprise me in the least that the master gets to work earlier in the morning than the man. I have also a suspicion that Ralph Summertrees knows perfectly well what the estimable Podgers is there for.'

'What makes you think that?'

'I can give no reason except that my opinion of the acuteness of Summertrees has been gradually rising all the while you were speaking, and at the same time my estimate of Podgers' craft has been as steadily declining. However, bring the man here tomorrow, that I may ask him a few questions.'

Next day, about eleven o'clock, the ponderous Podgers, hat in hand, followed his chief into my room. His broad, impassive, immobile smooth face gave him rather more the air of a genuine butler than I had expected, and this appearance, of course, was enhanced by his livery. His replies to my questions were those of a well-trained servant who will not say too much unless it is made worth his while. All in all, Podgers exceeded my expectations, and really my friend Hale had some justification for regarding him, as he evidently did, a triumph in his line.

'Sit down, Mr. Hale, and you, Podgers.'

The man disregarded my invitation, standing like a statue until his chief made a motion; then he dropped into a chair. The English are great on discipline.

'Now, Mr. Hale, I must first congratulate you on the make-up of Podgers. It is excellent. You depend less on artificial assistance than we do in France, and in that I think you are right.'

'Oh, we know a bit over here, Monsieur Valmont,' said Hale, with pardonable pride.

'Now then, Podgers, I want to ask you about this clerk. What time does he arrive in the evening?'

'At prompt six, sir.'

'Does he ring, or let himself in with a latchkey?'

'With a latchkey, sir.'

'How does he carry the money?'

'In a little locked leather satchel, sir, flung over his shoulder.'

'Does he go direct to the dining-room?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Have you seen him unlock the safe and put in the money?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Does the safe unlock with a word or a key?'

'With a key, sir. It's one of the old-fashioned kind.'

'Then the clerk unlocks his leather money bag?'

'Yes, sir.'

'That's three keys used within as many minutes. Are they separate or in a bunch?'

'In a bunch, sir.'

'Did you ever see your master with this bunch of keys?'

'No, sir.'

'You saw him open the safe once, I am told?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Did he use a separate key, or one of a bunch?'

Podgers slowly scratched his head, then said,—

'I don't just remember, sir.'

'Ah, Podgers, you are neglecting the big things in that house. Sure you can't remember?'

'No, sir.'

'Once the money is in and the safe locked up, what does the clerk do?'

'Goes to his room, sir.'

'Where is this room?'

'On the third floor, sir.'

'Where do you sleep?'

'On the fourth floor with the rest of the servants, sir.'

'Where does the master sleep?'

'On the second floor, adjoining his study.'

'The house consists of four stories and a basement, does it?'

'Yes, sir.'

'I have somehow arrived at the suspicion that it is a very narrow house. Is that true?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Does the clerk ever dine with your master?'

'No, sir. The clerk don't eat in the house at all, sir.'

'Does he go away before breakfast?'

'No, sir.'

'No one takes breakfast to his room?'

'No, sir.'

'What time does he leave the house?'

'At ten o'clock, sir.'

'When is breakfast served?'

'At nine o'clock, sir.'

'At what hour does your master retire to his study?'

'At half-past nine, sir.'

'Locks the door on the inside?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Never rings for anything during the day?'

'Not that I know of, sir.'

'What sort of a man is he?'

Here Podgers was on familiar ground, and he rattled off a description minute in every particular.

'What I meant was, Podgers, is he silent, or talkative, or does he get angry? Does he seem furtive, suspicious, anxious, terrorised, calm, excitable, or what?'

'Well, sir, he is by way of being very quiet, never has much to say for himself; never saw him angry, or excited.'

'Now, Podgers, you've been at Park Lane for a fortnight or more. You are a sharp, alert, observant man. What happens there that strikes you as unusual?'

'Well, I can't exactly say, sir,' replied Podgers, looking rather helplessly from his chief to myself, and back again.

'Your professional duties have often compelled you to enact the part of butler before, otherwise you wouldn't do it so well. Isn't that the case.'

Podgers did not reply, but glanced at his chief. This was evidently a question pertaining to the service, which a subordinate was not allowed to answer. However, Hale said at once,—

'Certainly. Podgers has been in dozens of places.'

'Well, Podgers, just call to mind some of the other households where you have been employed, and tell me any particulars in which Mr Summertrees' establishment differs from them.'

Podgers pondered a long time.

'Well, sir, he do stick to writing pretty close.'

'Ah, that's his profession, you see, Podgers. Hard at it from half-past nine till towards seven, I imagine?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Anything else, Podgers? No matter how trivial.'

'Well, sir, he's fond of reading too; leastways, he's fond of newspapers.'

'When does he read?'

'I've never seen him read 'em, sir; indeed, so far as I can tell, I never knew the papers to be opened, but he takes them all in, sir.'

'What, all the morning papers?'

'Yes, sir, and all the evening papers too.'

'Where are the morning papers placed?'

'On the table in his study, sir.'

'And the evening papers?'

'Well, sir, when the evening papers come, the study is locked. They are put on a side table in the dining-room, and he takes them upstairs with him to his study.'

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