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A wealthy businessman is found dead in his study, but conflicting forensic evidence regarding the time and manner of his death raises more questions than it settles. With a sizable estate hanging in the balance and clues indicating foul play, a persistent detective endeavors to unravel the mystery.
jacob herapath is missing
This was the third week of Selwood's secretaryship to Jacob Herapath. Herapath was a well-known man in London. He was a Member of Parliament, the owner of a sort of model estate of up-to-date flats, and something of a crank about such matters as ventilation, sanitation, and lighting. He himself, a bachelor, lived in one of the best houses in Portman Square; when he engaged Selwood as his secretary he made him take a convenient set of rooms in Upper Seymour Street, close by. He also caused a telephone communication to be set up between his own house and Selwood's bedroom, so that he could summon his secretary at any hour of the night. Herapath occasionally had notions about things in the small hours, and he was one of those active, restless persons who, if they get a new idea, like to figure on it at once. All the same, during those three weeks he had not once troubled his secretary in this fashion. No call came to Selwood over that telephone until half-past seven one November morning, just as he was thinking of getting out of bed. And the voice which then greeted him was not Herapath's. It was a rather anxious, troubled voice, and it belonged to one Kitteridge, a middle-aged man, who was Herapath's butler.
In the act of summoning Selwood, Kitteridge was evidently interrupted by some person at his elbow; all that Selwood made out was that Kitteridge wanted him to go round at once. He dressed hurriedly, and ran off to Herapath's house; there in the hall, near the door of a room which Herapath used as a study and business room, he found Kitteridge talking to Mountain, Herapath's coachman, who, judging by the state of his attire, had also been called hurriedly from his bed.
"What is it, Kitteridge?" demanded Selwood. "Mr. Herapath ill?"
The butler shook his head and jerked his thumb towards the open door of the study.
"The fact is, we don't know where Mr. Herapath is, sir," he answered. "He hasn't slept in his bed, and he isn't in the house."
"Possibly he didn't come home last night," suggested Selwood. "He may have slept at his club, or at an hotel."
The butler and the coachman looked at each other-then the coachman, a little, sharp-eyed man who was meditatively chewing a bit of straw, opened his tightly-compressed lips.
"He did come home, sir," he said. "I drove him home-as usual. I saw him let himself into the house. One o'clock sharp, that was. Oh, yes, he came home!"
"He came home," repeated Kitteridge. "Look here, sir." He led the way into the study and pointed to a small table set by the side of Herapath's big business desk. "You see that tray, Mr. Selwood? That's always left out, there, on that table, for Mr. Herapath every night. A small decanter of whiskey, a syphon, a few sandwiches, a dry biscuit or two. Well, there you are, sir-he's had a drink out of that glass, he's had a mouthful or so of sandwiches. Oh, yes, he came home, but he's not at home now! Charlesworth-the valet, you know, sir-always goes into Mr. Herapath's room at a quarter past seven every morning; when he went in just now he found that Mr. Herapath wasn't there, and the bed hadn't been slept in. So-that's where things stand."
Selwood looked round the room. The curtains had not yet been drawn aside, and the electric light cast a cold glare on the various well-known objects and fittings. He glanced at the evidences of the supper tray; then at the blotting-pad on Herapath's desk; there he might have left a note for his butler or his secretary. But there was no note to be seen.
"Still, I don't see that there's anything to be alarmed about, Kitteridge," he said. "Mr. Herapath may have wanted to go somewhere by a very early morning train--"
"No, sir, excuse me, that won't do," broke in the butler. "I thought of that myself. But if he'd wanted to catch a night train, he'd have taken a travelling coat, and a rug, and a bag of some sort-he's taken nothing at all in that way. Besides, I've been in this house seven years, and I know his habits. If he'd wanted to go away by one of the very early morning trains he'd have kept me and Charlesworth up, making ready for him. No, sir! He came home, and went out again-must have done. And-it's uncommonly queer. Seven years I've been here, as I say, and he never did such a thing before."
Selwood turned to the coachman.
"You brought Mr. Herapath home at one o'clock?" he said. "Alone?"
"He was alone, sir," replied the coachman, who had been staring around him as if to seek some solution of the mystery. "I'll tell you all that happened-I was just beginning to tell Mr. Kitteridge here when you come in. I fetched Mr. Herapath from the House of Commons last night at a quarter past eleven-took him up in Palace Yard at the usual spot, just as the clock was striking. 'Mountain,' he says, 'I want you to drive round to the estate office-I want to call there.' So I drove there-that's in Kensington, as you know, sir. When he got out he says, 'Mountain,' he says, 'I shall be three-quarters of an hour or so here-wrap the mare up and walk her about,' he says. I did as he said, but he was more than three-quarters-it was like an hour. Then at last he came back to the brougham, just said one word, 'Home!' and I drove him here, and the clocks were striking one when he got out. He said 'Good night,' and I saw him walk up the steps and put his key in the latch as I drove off to our stables. And that's all I know about it."
Selwood turned to the butler.
"I suppose no one was up at that time?" he inquired.
"Nobody, sir," answered Kitteridge. "There never is. Mr. Herapath, as you've no doubt observed, is a bit strict in the matter of rules, and it's one of his rules that everybody in the house must be in bed by eleven-thirty. No one was ever to sit up for him on any occasion. That's why this supper-tray was always left ready. His usual time for coming in when he'd been at the House was twelve o'clock."
"Everybody in the house might be in bed," observed Selwood, "but not everybody might be asleep. Have you made any inquiry as to whether anybody heard Mr. Herapath moving about in the night, or leaving the house? Somebody may have heard the hall door opened and closed, you know."
"I'll make inquiry as to that, sir," responded Kitteridge, "but I've heard nothing of the sort so far, and all the servants are aware by now that Mr. Herapath isn't in the house. If anybody had heard anything--"
Before the butler could say more the study door opened and a girl came into the room. At sight of her Selwood spoke hurriedly to Kitteridge.
"Have you told Miss Wynne?" he whispered. "Does she know?"
"She may have heard from her maid, sir," replied Kitteridge in low tones. "Of course they're all talking of it. I was going to ask to see Miss Wynne as soon as she was dressed."
By that time the girl had advanced towards the three men, and Selwood stepped forward to meet her. He knew her as Herapath's niece, the daughter of a dead sister of whom Herapath had been very fond; he knew, too, that Herapath had brought her up from infancy and treated her as a daughter. She was at this time a young woman of twenty-one or two, a pretty, eminently likeable young woman, with signs of character and resource in eyes and lips, and Selwood had seen enough of her to feel sure that in any disturbing event she would keep her head. She spoke calmly enough as the secretary met her.
"What's all this, Mr. Selwood?" she asked. "I understand my uncle is not in the house. But there's nothing alarming in that, Kitteridge, is there? Mr. Herapath may have gone away during the night, you know."
"Kitteridge thinks that highly improbable," replied Selwood. "He says that Mr. Herapath had made no preparation for a sudden journey, has taken no travelling coat or rug, or luggage of any sort."
"Did he come in from the House?" she asked. "Perhaps not?"
Kitteridge pointed to the supper-tray and then indicated the coachman.
"He came in as usual, miss," he replied. "Or rather an hour later than usual. Mountain brought him home at one o'clock, and he saw him let himself in with his latch-key."
Peggie Wynne turned to the coachman.
"You're sure that he entered the house?" she asked.
"As sure as I could be, miss," replied Mountain. "He was putting his key in the door when I drove off."
"He must have come in," said Kitteridge, pointing to the tray. "He had something after he got in."
"Well, go and tell the servants not to talk, Kitteridge," said Peggie. "My uncle, no doubt, had reasons for going out again. Have you said anything to Mr. Tertius?"
"Mr. Tertius isn't down yet, miss," answered the butler.
He left the room, followed by the coachman, and Peggie turned to Selwood. "What do you think?" she asked, with a slight show of anxiety. "You don't know of any reason for this, do you?"
"None," replied Selwood. "And as to what I think, I don't know sufficient about Mr. Herapath's habits to be able to judge."
"He never did anything like this before," she remarked. "I know that he sometimes gets up in the middle of the night and comes down here, but I never knew him to go out. If he'd been setting off on a sudden journey he'd surely have let me know. Perhaps--"
She paused suddenly, seeing Selwood lift his eyes from the papers strewn about the desk to the door. She, too, turned in the same direction.
A man had come quietly into the room-a slightly-built, little man, grey-bearded, delicate-looking, whose eyes were obscured by a pair of dark-tinted spectacles. He moved gently and with an air of habitual shyness, and Selwood, who was naturally observant, saw that his lips and his hands were trembling slightly as he came towards them.
"Mr. Tertius," said Peggie, "do you know anything about Uncle Jacob? He came in during the night-one o'clock-and now he's disappeared. Did he say anything to you about going away early this morning?"
Mr. Tertius shook his head.
"No-no-nothing!" he answered. "Disappeared! Is it certain he came in?"
"Mountain saw him come in," she said. "Besides, he had a drink out of that glass, and he ate something from the tray-see!"
Mr. Tertius bent his spectacled eyes over the supper tray and remained looking at what he saw there for a while. Then he looked up, and at Selwood.
"Strange!" he remarked. "And yet, you know, he is a man who does things without saying a word to any one. Have you, now, thought of telephoning to the estate office? He may have gone there."
Peggie, who had dropped into the chair at Herapath's desk, immediately jumped up.
"Of course we must do that at once!" she exclaimed. "Come to the telephone, Mr. Selwood-we may hear something."
She and Selwood left the room together. When they had gone, Mr. Tertius once more bent over the supper tray. He picked up the empty glass, handling it delicately; he held it between himself and the electric light over the desk; he narrowly inspected it, inside and out. Then he turned his attention to the plate of sandwiches. One sandwich had been taken from the plate and bitten into-once. Mr. Tertius took up that sandwich with the tips of his delicately-shaped fingers. He held that, too, nearer the light. And having looked at it he hastily selected an envelope from the stationery cabinet on the desk, carefully placed the sandwich within it, and set off to his own rooms in the upper part of the house. As he passed through the hall he heard Selwood at the telephone, which was installed in a small apartment at the foot of the stairs-he was evidently already in communication with some one at the Herapath Estate Office.
Mr. Tertius went straight to his room, stayed there a couple of minutes, and went downstairs again. Selwood and Peggie Wynne were just coming away from the telephone; they looked up at him with faces grave with concern.
"We're wanted at the estate office," said Selwood. "The caretaker was just going to ring us up when I got through to him. Something is wrong-wrong with Mr. Herapath."
Table of Contents
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Trajectory presents classics of world literature with 21st century features! Our original-text editions include the following visual enhancements to foster a deeper understanding of the work: Word Clouds at the start of each chapter highlight important words. Word, sentence, paragraph counts, and reading time help readers and teachers determine chapter complexity. Co-occurrence graphs depict character-to-character interactions as well character to place interactions. Sentiment indexes identify positive and negative trends in mood within each chapter. Frequency graphs help display the impact this book has had on popular culture since its original date of publication. Use Trajectory analytics to deepen comprehension, to provide a focus for discussions and writing assignments, and to engage new readers with some of the greatest stories ever told."The Moving Picture Girls: Or, First Appearances in Photo Dramas" is part of "The Moving Picture Girls" series. "The Moving Picture Girls" is a series about the adventures of Ruth and Alice DeVere who live with their father who is an actor.
British poet, journalist, and avid amateur historian Joseph Smith Fletcher went on to become one of the foremost figures in the genre of detective fiction in the early to mid-twentieth century. Set in a quiet community in the north of England, The Borough Treasurer is an enjoyable mystery that will keep even the most astute readers guessing.
Trajectory presents classics of world literature with 21st century features! Our original-text editions include the following visual enhancements to foster a deeper understanding of the work: Word Clouds at the start of each chapter highlight important words. Word, sentence, paragraph counts, and reading time help readers and teachers determine chapter complexity. Co-occurrence graphs depict character-to-character interactions as well character to place interactions. Sentiment indexes identify positive and negative trends in mood within each chapter. Frequency graphs help display the impact this book has had on popular culture since its original date of publication. Use Trajectory analytics to deepen comprehension, to provide a focus for discussions and writing assignments, and to engage new readers with some of the greatest stories ever told."The Moving Picture Girls: Or, First Appearances in Photo Dramas" is part of "The Moving Picture Girls" series. "The Moving Picture Girls" is a series about the adventures of Ruth and Alice DeVere who live with their father who is an actor.
A GREAT MURDER MYSTERY!There may be folk in the world to whom the finding of a dead man, lying grim and stark by the roadside, with the blood freshly run from it and making ugly patches of crimson on the grass and the gravel, would be an ordinary thing; but to me that had never seen blood let in violence, except in such matters as a bout of fisticuffs at school, it was the biggest thing that had ever happened, and I stood staring down at the white face as if I should never look at anything else as long as I lived. I remember all about that scene and that moment as freshly now as if the affair had happened last night. The dead man lying in the crushed grass—his arms thrown out helplessly on either side of him—
Trajectory presents classics of world literature with 21st century features! Our original-text editions include the following visual enhancements to foster a deeper understanding of the work: Word Clouds at the start of each chapter highlight important words. Word, sentence, paragraph counts, and reading time help readers and teachers determine chapter complexity. Co-occurrence graphs depict character-to-character interactions as well character to place interactions. Sentiment indexes identify positive and negative trends in mood within each chapter. Frequency graphs help display the impact this book has had on popular culture since its original date of publication. Use Trajectory analytics to deepen comprehension, to provide a focus for discussions and writing assignments, and to engage new readers with some of the greatest stories ever told."The Moving Picture Girls: Or, First Appearances in Photo Dramas" is part of "The Moving Picture Girls" series. "The Moving Picture Girls" is a series about the adventures of Ruth and Alice DeVere who live with their father who is an actor.
The railway station stood in the midst of an apparent solitude, and from its one long platform there was no sign of any human habitation. A stranger, looking around him in passing that way, might well have wondered why a station should be found there at all; nevertheless, the board which figured prominently above the white palings suggested the near presence of three places—Wellsby, Meadhope, and Simonstower—and a glance at a map of the county would have sufficed to show him that three villages of the names there indicated lay hidden amongst the surrounding woods, one to the east and two to the west of the railway.
After hiding her true identity throughout her three-year marriage to Colton, Allison had committed wholeheartedly, only to find herself neglected and pushed toward divorce. Disheartened, she set out to rediscover her true self-a talented perfumer, the mastermind of a famous intelligence agency, and the heir to a secret hacker network. Realizing his mistakes, Colton expressed his regret. "I know I messed up. Please, give me another chance." Yet, Kellan, a once-disabled tycoon, stood up from his wheelchair, took Allison's hand, and scoffed dismissively, "You think she'll take you back? Dream on."
Yelena discovered that she wasn't her parents' biological child. After seeing through their ploy to trade her as a pawn in a business deal, she was sent away to her barren birthplace. There, she stumbled upon her true origins—a lineage of historic opulence. Her real family showered her with love and adoration. In the face of her so-called sister's envy, Yelena conquered every adversity and took her revenge, all while showcasing her talents. She soon caught the attention of the city's most eligible bachelor. He cornered Yelena and pinned her against the wall. “It's time to reveal your true identity, darling.”
"Ahh!" She was in a moaning mess. She did not want to feel anything for this man. She hated him. His hands began to move all over her body. She gasped when he pulled down the back chain of her dress. The chain stopped at her lower waist, so when he zipped it off, her upper back and waist were exposed. "D-Don't touch m-ummm!" His fingers rolled around her bare back, and she pressed her head against the pillow. His touches were giving her goosebumps all over her body. With a deep angry voice, he whispered in her ear, "I am going to make you forget his touches, kisses, and everything. Every time you touch another man, you will only think of me." - - - Ava Adler was a nerdy omega. People bullied her because they thought she was ugly and unattractive. But Ava secretly loved the bad boy, Ian Dawson. He was the future Alpha of the Mystic Shadow Pack. However, he doesn't give a damn about rules and laws, as he only likes to play around with girls. Ava was unaware of Ian's arrogance until her fate intertwined with his. He neglected her and hurt her deeply. What would happen when Ava turned out to be a beautiful girl who could win over any boy, and Ian looked back and regretted his decisions? What if she had a secret identity that she had yet to discover? What if the tables turned and Ian begged her not to leave him?
When Zora was sick during the early days of her pregnancy, Ezrah was with his first love, Piper. When Zora got into an accident and called Ezrah, he said he was busy, when in actual fact, he was buying shoes for Piper. Zora lost her baby because of the accident, and throughout her stay at the hospital, Ezrah never showed up. She already knew that he didn't love her, but that was the last straw for the camel's back, and her fragile heart could not take it anymore. When Ezrah arrived home a few days after Zora was discharged from the hospital, he no longer met the woman who always greeted him with a smile and cared for him. Zora stood at the top of the stairs and yelled with a cold expression, "Good news, Ezrah! Our baby died in a car accident. There is nothing between us anymore, so let's get a divorce." The man who claimed not to have any feelings for Zora, being cold and distant towards her, and having asked her for a divorce twice, instantly panicked.
Amy didn't expect that her husband whom she had loved and trusted earnestly for many years would be cheating on her by having sex with his secretary. When she confronted him, he and his secretary mocked and ridiculed her, they called her barren to her face, afterall, she had not conceived for the past three years that she had been married to her husband, Callan. Terribly Heartbroken, she filed for divorce and left to the club, she picked a random gigolo, had a hot one night stand with him, paid him and dissapeared to a small city. She came back to the country six years later with three identical cute boys and three identical cute girls of the same age. She settled and got a job but soon find out that her CEO was the gigolo she had sex with six years back at the club. Will she be able to hide her six little cuties from her CEO, who happens to be the most powerful man in NorthHill and beleived to be infertile? Can Amy and the most powerful man in NorthHill get along considering the social gap between them.
After three secretive years of marriage, Eliana never met her enigmatic husband until she was served with divorce papers and learned of his extravagant pursuit of another. She snapped back to reality and secured a divorce. Thereafter, Eliana unveiled her various personas: an esteemed doctor, legendary secret agent, master hacker, celebrated designer, adept race car driver, and distinguished scientist. As her diverse talents became known, her ex-husband was consumed by remorse. Desperately, he pleaded, "Eliana, give me another chance! All my properties, even my life, are yours."