The 'Phone Booth Mystery

Already Carling’s sleek head was bent over the special dispatches which had just been delivered at the private residence of Sir Robert Rawson. There were two sets, written in di...

The momentary hesitation in speech caused the busy little postmistress to glance up at her customer--a lady of medium height and slender figure, well but quietly dressed. She wo...

On the floor between the counters was a long object covered by a coloured tablecloth--the corpse of the murdered woman, with limbs decently straightened now. Beside it, on a sho...

While the tragic commotion in the High Road was at its height a very different scene was being enacted at the fine old riverside church three-quarters of a mile away. A smart we...

“No copy has been made,” Sir Robert answered. “The pattern is unique, it could not be reproduced except by the makers, and I telephoned to them this morning. In any case they wo...

“Thank goodness for some peace and quietness at last! What a day it has been, with everything going wrong from beginning to end; and then this awful affair about poor Lady Rawso...

He dismissed his cab at the entrance to the square, which he noted was nearly opposite to the post office where Lady Rawson had been done to death a few hours before. He stood f...

“You haven’t lost any time, Mr. Starr. But there’s nothing fresh here. Sadler’s just the same, and the doctor says it will be impossible for him to attend the inquest to-morrow,...

Even a short railway journey often has the effect of creating an interval that means far longer than the actual lapse of time--a honeymoon journey perhaps most of all, marking,...

Grace Carling’s sweet face was pale and tear-stained. At last she had learned the grim news that Roger had successfully suppressed until now, just after breakfast in their sitti...

“It’s like one of those toy ‘weather houses,’” said Roger as they mounted the steps. “Does a little lady come out on fine days and a little man on wet ones?”

The words repeated themselves over and over in Grace Carling’s brain with maddening persistence, as she sat perfectly still and silent, her hands grasping the arms of the chair,...

“If I hadn’t turned up just at that very moment, I believe Grace would have died on the doorstep. I hope there’s not another woman in the world would have behaved so abominably...

The beautiful little Russian church was filled to the very doors for the solemn and stately ceremonial of Paula Rawson’s funeral service. Many representatives of royalty were th...

“I don’t know about Mr. Spedding,” said Grace slowly, her hands clasped round her knees, her troubled eyes fixed on the fire. “I was with him all the afternoon, you know--there...

“Giulia, thou art a foolish old cow! I tell thee no harm will come to thee. It is but to make oath and tell the truth; that the young signor came here inquiring for Donna Paula,...

He had been obliged to decline the _maestro’s_ hospitable invitation to dinner, and had been assured by the old man that it did not matter how late he turned up: “I am not what...

“It’s something to go on, isn’t it?” Austin countered. He had decided to take counsel with Snell upon that problem he was endeavouring to solve, and the detective had listened i...

There are very few, if any, prisoners, be they innocent or guilty, who, accused of murder, or of any other crime considered too serious to admit of release on bail, do not endur...

“Oh, my dear Mrs. Carling, don’t be vexed with me!” cried Miss Culpepper, rising and fluttering towards Grace. “I’ve been fretting so about you being here all alone, and now I’v...

When he reached the street Thomson discovered that he had left his right-hand glove in Mrs. Carling’s flat. Not worth returning for it, he decided, thrusting his hand into his o...

Through the vast, dim spaces above, beyond the radiance of the lighted chancel, the soft coo of the pigeons outside was distinctly audible above the low tones of the ministrant...

Outside the Parish Hall a taxicab was standing, unattended, and she wondered for whom it might be waiting. She entered and stood for a time, unobserved, among the throng inside...

The trial of Roger Carling for the murder of Lady Rawson was drawing to an end. No case heard in the Central Criminal Court had ever created greater public interest, by reason o...

In the room that had once been Paula Rawson’s boudoir Sir Robert Rawson lay on his wheeled couch, drawn up near a blazing fire. Of late he had extended his daily visits to this...

Silently, and with his accustomed efficiency, Thomson moved about the boudoir rearranging some of the furniture. In the centre he placed the largest of the beautiful ormolu tabl...

At Argeles in the Pyrenées--where already the sheltered valleys were glorious with spring blossoms, where the snow mountains shone dazzling under the strong sunshine against the...