Paul Fordingbridge, with a faintly reproachful glance at his sister, interrupted his study of the financial page of The Times and put the paper down on his knee. Deliberately he removed his reading-gl...

Sir Clinton Driffield, after a careful examination of the lie, deliberately put down a long putt on the last green of the Lynden Sands course. His opponent, Stanley Fleetwood, stooped and picked up hi...

Wendover, scanning his friend’s face, could see that all the carelessness had vanished from its expression. With the prospect of definite work before him, Sir Clinton seemed to have dropped his holida...

Sir Clinton took out his cigarette-case and handed it to his companions in turn. “Let’s have the unofficial view first,” he suggested. “What do you make of it all, squire, in the light of the classics...

“I suppose the constable explained things more or less, Mr. Fordingbridge?” Sir Clinton asked, as he came abreast of the car. Miss Fordingbridge did not wait for her brother’s reply. “It’s really drea...

Wakened abruptly by the trilling of a bell beside his bed, Sir Clinton bitterly regretted the striving of the Lynden Sands Hotel towards up-to-dateness, as represented by a room telephone system. He l...

Followed by Wendover and the inspector, Sir Clinton mounted the platform of Neptune’s Seat, which formed an outcrop some twenty yards long and ten in breadth, with the landward part rising sharply so ...

At the foot of the stairs, Armadale excused himself. “Better have some breakfast, inspector,” Sir Clinton suggested. “You’ve been up all night, and you must be hungry.” Rather to Wendover’s relief, Ar...

The chief constable had a fresh task on his hands as soon as Armadale took his leave. It seemed to him essential to get the body of the dead man identified by someone in addition to the group at Flatt...

Next morning, before going to the links, Sir Clinton went to the shore and superintended the start of the excavating work there; but when once the actual digging had begun, he seemed to lose interest ...

“I shan’t be able to give you a game this morning, squire,” Sir Clinton explained at breakfast next day. “I’ve got another engagement.” He glanced towards Mme. Laurent-Desrousseaux’s empty seat at the...

“Tuesday, isn’t it?” Sir Clinton said, as he came in to breakfast and found Wendover already at the table. “The day when the Fleetwoods propose to put their cards on the table at last. Have you got up...

Reassured by the knowledge that Sir Clinton had taken the examination of Cressida out of the inspector’s hands, Wendover was eager to know if anything fresh would be elicited from the Fleetwoods which...

On the departure of Sir Clinton, Wendover found himself in a position of isolation. The Fleetwoods and Miss Fordingbridge kept to their own suite, and did not show themselves in the public rooms; but ...

When Cressida received her uncle’s note that afternoon, she was both relieved and puzzled. Within less than a week she had been subjected to shocks and strains of such acuteness that she had almost lo...

Much to the inspector’s surprise, Sir Clinton did not drive furiously when they had got into his car, which had been left standing at some distance from the cottage. It was only when they almost ran i...

“This hasn’t been a tidy case, in the strict meaning of the words,” Sir Clinton mused, as he chose a comfortable spot on Neptune’s Seat and settled down on it. “It’s really an omnium gatherum. It bega...

See diagram here. ↩...