Dr. Ringwood pushed his chair back from the dinner-table. A glance at the clock on the mantelpiece told him that on this evening he had been even later than usual in getting home for dinner. The expre...

The box edging of the drive gave Dr. Ringwood sufficient guidance through the darkness down to the gate; and by following the garden wall thereafter, he had little difficulty in making his way to the ...

Dr. Ringwood left the smoke-room door open to ensure that he would hear anyone who entered the house. He made a second cursory inspection of young Hassendean’s body; but as he took care not to alter t...

“That’s a fine old turkey-cock,” Dr. Ringwood commented, as he and Sir Clinton groped their way down the drive towards the gate of Ivy Lodge. The Chief Constable smiled covertly at the aptness of the ...

In the course of his career, Sir Clinton Driffield had found it important to devote some attention to his outward appearance; but his object in doing so had been different from that of most men, for h...

The police machinery under Sir Clinton’s control always worked smoothly, even when its routine was disturbed by such unpredictable events as murders. Almost automatically, it seemed, that big, flexibl...

At the door of the big block of buildings which formed the Croft-Thornton Institute, Inspector Flamborough made inquiries from the porter and obtained a guide through the labyrinth of stairs and corri...

When Ronald Hassendean’s journal was found to consist of four bulky volumes of manuscript, Sir Clinton hastily disclaimed any desire to make its acquaintance in extenso and passed over to Inspector Fl...

Inspector Flamborough’s orderly mind found something to respect in the businesslike appearance of the moneylender’s premises. As he waited at the counter of the outer office while his card was submitt...

For the next day or two, Sir Clinton’s interest in the Hassendean case appeared to have faded out; and Inspector Flamborough, after following up one or two clues which eventually proved useless, was b...

On the following morning, Inspector Flamborough was summoned to the Chief Constable’s room and, on his arrival, was somewhat surprised to find his superior poring over a copy of the Westerhaven Courie...

“This is Mr. Renard, sir.” Flamborough held open the door of Sir Clinton’s office and ushered in the little Frenchman. The Chief Constable glanced up at the interruptors. “Mrs. Silverdale’s brother, i...

As he entered Sir Clinton’s office on the following morning, Inspector Flamborough blurted out bad news without any preliminary beating about the bush. “There’s been another murder, sir,” he announced...

Sir Clinton and the Inspector found Markfield at work in his laboratory when they reached the Croft-Thornton Institute. Flamborough wasted no time in preliminaries, but plunged at once into the busine...

Two days after the interview with Markfield and his colleague at the Croft-Thornton Institute, Inspector Flamborough came into Sir Clinton’s office, obviously in a state of faint trepidation. “I’ve ar...

Inspector Flamborough had to wait a couple of days before his unknown ally, Justice, made any further move. It so happened that Sir Clinton was not at headquarters when the post brought the expected c...

Just before entering the road in which Markfield lived, Sir Clinton drew up his car; and as he did so, a constable in plain clothes stepped forward. “Dr. Markfield’s in his house, sir,” he announced. ...

“I don’t see how you did it,” Markfield began, “but you got to the root of things when you traced a connection between me and Yvonne Silverdale. I’d never expected that. And considering how we’d kept ...

… The following things seem suggestive. (1) The breakup of the Silverdale ménage, with Silverdale turning to Avice Deepcar whilst Mrs. Silverdale lets Hassendean frequent her openly. (2) Hassendean’s ...