The roof of the Sheridan Apartment House, near Washington Square, New York. Let us examine it. There will be stirring happenings on this roof in due season, and it is well to know the ground. The Sher...

The roof of the Sheridan Apartment House, near Washington Square, New York. Let us examine it. There will be stirring happenings on this roof in due season, and it is well to know the ground. The Sher...

The policeman touched his cap. He was a long, stringy policeman, who flowed out of his uniform at odd spots, as if Nature, setting out to make a constable, had had a good deal of material left over wh...

Following his departure, silence reigned for some minutes on the roof of the Sheridan. Mullett resumed his sweeping, and Officer Garroway scribbled industriously in his notebook. But after about a qua...

To George, sunk in a golden reverie, there entered some few minutes later, jarring him back to life, a pair of three-pound dumbbells, which shot abruptly out of the unknown and came trundling across t...

“Mullett,” said George. “Sir?” “Have you pressed my dress clothes?” “Yes, sir.” “And brushed them?” “Yes, sir.” “My ties⁠—are they laid out?” “In a neat row, sir.” George coughed. “Mullett!” “Sir?” “Y...

At the hour of seven-thirty, just when George Finch was trying out his fifth tie, a woman stood pacing the floor in the Byzantine boudoir at Number 16, Seventy-Ninth Street, East. At first sight this ...

At the hour of seven-thirty, just when George Finch was trying out his fifth tie, a woman stood pacing the floor in the Byzantine boudoir at Number 16, Seventy-Ninth Street, East. At first sight this ...

Mrs. Waddington navigated upstairs, and paused before a door near the second landing. “Molly!” “Yes, mother?” Mrs. Waddington was frowning as she entered the room. How often she had told this girl to ...

In addition to being a nice, dutiful girl, Molly Waddington was also a persuasive, wheedling girl. Better proof of this statement can hardly be afforded than by the fact that, as the clocks were point...

The reason why George Finch⁠—for it was he⁠—was behaving strangely was that he was a shy young man and consequently unable to govern his movements by the light of pure reason. The ordinary tough-skinn...

The perfect hostess makes a point of never displaying discomposure. In moments of trial she aims at the easy repose of manner of a Red Indian at the stake. Nevertheless, there was a moment when, as sh...

The perfect hostess makes a point of never displaying discomposure. In moments of trial she aims at the easy repose of manner of a Red Indian at the stake. Nevertheless, there was a moment when, as sh...

Nothing spoils a tête-à-tête chat between two newly-made friends more than a disposition towards reticence on the part of the senior of the pair: and it was fortunate therefore, that, by the time he f...

The chief drawback to being a shy man is that in the actual crises of real life you are a very different person from the dashing and resourceful individual whom you have pictured in your solitary dayd...

It was a fair sunny morning next day when George Finch trotted up the steps of Number 16, Seventy-Ninth Street, East, and pressed the bell. He was wearing his dove-grey suit, and under his arm was an ...

“Tell me all,” said Hamilton Beamish. George told him all. The unfortunate young man was still looking licked to a splinter. For several hours he had been wandering distractedly through the streets of...

“Tell me all,” said Hamilton Beamish. George told him all. The unfortunate young man was still looking licked to a splinter. For several hours he had been wandering distractedly through the streets of...

As Hamilton Beamish, some quarter of an hour later, climbed in a series of efficient movements up the stairs of the green omnibus which was waiting in Washington Square, the summer afternoon had reach...

“Oh, Jimmy, it was sweet of you to come,” said Molly. Hamilton Beamish patted her hand absently. He was too preoccupied to notice the hateful name by which she had addressed him. “I have had a wonderf...

It might have been expected that the passage of time, giving opportunity for quiet reflection on the subject of the illogical nature of the infatuation in which he had allowed himself to become involv...

“George,” said Hamilton Beamish, “I met someone today who knew you back in East Gilead. A girl.” “What was her name? Did Molly give you any message for me?” “Madame Eulalie.” “I don’t remember anyone ...

Madame Eulalie peered into the crystal that was cupped between her shapely hands. The face that had caused Hamilton Beamish to jettison the principles of a lifetime was concentrated and serious. “The ...

Madame Eulalie peered into the crystal that was cupped between her shapely hands. The face that had caused Hamilton Beamish to jettison the principles of a lifetime was concentrated and serious. “The ...

Having uttered these words, Sigsbee Horatio stood gazing at his wife with something of the spellbound horror of a man who has bored a hole in a dam and sees the water trickling through and knows that ...

“Say, listen!” said Sigsbee H. Waddington. “Proceed,” said Hamilton Beamish. “Say, listen!” “I am all attention.” “Say, listen!” said Mr. Waddington. Hamilton Beamish glanced at his watch impatiently....

“Say, listen!” said Sigsbee H. Waddington. “Proceed,” said Hamilton Beamish. “Say, listen!” “I am all attention.” “Say, listen!” said Mr. Waddington. Hamilton Beamish glanced at his watch impatiently....

“I beg your pardon, sir, if I seem to intrude,” said the policeman, beginning to recede. “I came to see Mr. Beamish. I should have made an appointment.” “Hey! Don’t go.” Said Mr. Waddington. The polic...

Upstairs, while the conversation just recorded was in progress, Frederick Mullett was entertaining his fiancée, Fanny Welch, to a light collation in the kitchen of George Finch’s apartment. It is diff...

More than twenty times that period had elapsed, however, before Frederick Mullett returned to the kitchen. He found his bride-to-be in a considerably less amiable mood than that in which he had left h...

It was some time before Sigsbee H. Waddington could bring himself to do so. There exist, no doubt, married men of the baser sort who would have enjoyed the prospect of a tête-à-tête chat with a girl w...

There are, as everybody knows, many ways of measuring time: and right through the ages learned men have argued heatedly in favour of their different systems. Hipparchus of Rhodes sneered every time an...

George Finch’s wedding-day dawned fair and bright. The sun beamed down as if George by getting married were doing it a personal favour. The breezes, playing about him, brought with them a faint but we...

It chanced that as he spoke these light and casual words Hamilton Beamish, glancing down, noted that his shoelace had come untied. Stooping to attend to this he missed seeing George’s face. Nor⁠—for h...

Hamilton Beamish strolled out into the hall. Something attempted, something done, had earned a cigarette. He was just lighting one, when there was a grinding of wheels on the gravel, and through the o...

George did not delay. Always sound, Hamilton Beamish’s advice appeared to him now even sounder than usual. He rang the bell for Ferris. “Oh, Ferris,” said George, “Mr. Beamish thinks you had better st...

Several hours later, when the stars had begun to peep out and the birds were rustling sleepily in the trees, a solitary figure might have been observed moving slowly up the drive towards the front doo...

One of the most sustaining gifts a man can possess is the ability to look upon the bright side of disaster. It was a gift which, until now, Sigsbee H. Waddington had lacked almost entirely: but at thi...

Mrs. Waddington found the authorities at Police Headquarters charming. It was some little time before they corrected their initial impression that she had come to give herself up to justice for commit...

Mrs. Waddington found the authorities at Police Headquarters charming. It was some little time before they corrected their initial impression that she had come to give herself up to justice for commit...

Frederick Mullett had been in a nervous frame of mind all the afternoon, more nervous even than that of the ordinary bridegroom on his wedding-day. For he had been deeply exercised for many hours past...

Mrs. Waddington, meanwhile, had not been content with a policy of watchful waiting. She was convinced that the shadow which she had seen on the blind had been that of a young woman: and instinct told ...

There were not many things which could have diverted Mrs. Waddington’s attention at that moment from the plate before her. An earthquake might have done it. So might the explosion of a bomb. This voic...

The only thing in the nature of a policy or plan of action which Mrs. Waddington had had when making for the fire-escape had been a general desire to be as far away as possible from the representative...

Molly and Sigsbee Horatio, the latter muttering “Gallagher! Gallagher! Gallagher!” to himself in order that the magic name should not again escape him, had started out in the two-seater about a quarte...

The Purple Chicken seemed to be having a big night. The room opening on to the street, when George reached it, was so crowded, that there was no chance of getting a table. He passed through, hoping to...

The Purple Chicken seemed to be having a big night. The room opening on to the street, when George reached it, was so crowded, that there was no chance of getting a table. He passed through, hoping to...

In supposing that the person or persons whom he had heard climbing up the fire-escape were in pursuit of himself, George Finch had made a pardonable error. Various circumstances had combined to render...

The first thing that impressed itself on George Finch’s consciousness, after his eyes had grown accustomed to the light, was an ankle. It was clad in a stocking of diaphanous silk, and was joined almo...

George stayed where he was. If he had known of a better ’ole, he would have gone to it: but he did not. He would have been the last person to pretend that it was comfortable lying underneath this bed ...

For a moment, all that George Finch felt as he glared out at this latest visitation was a weak resentment at the oafishness of Fate in using the same method for his tormenting that it had used so shor...

Mrs. Waddington had once read a story in which a series of emotions including fear, horror, amazement, consternation and a sickly dismay were described as “chasing one another” across the face of a da...

Mrs. Waddington had once read a story in which a series of emotions including fear, horror, amazement, consternation and a sickly dismay were described as “chasing one another” across the face of a da...

Nothing is more annoying to the reader of a chronicle like this than to have somebody suddenly popping up in some given spot and to find that the historian does not propose to offer any explanation as...

“Hey!” said Officer Garroway. “Sir?” said the newcomer. “You’re a deputy.” “No, sir. I am a butler.” “Say, Be-eeeee-mish!” bleated the voice below. It roused the policeman to a frenzy of direct action...

It had taken George some considerable time to establish connection with the Waddington home at Hempstead; but he had done it at last, only to be informed that Molly did not appear to be on the premise...