The sea mystery

The Burry Inlet, on the south coast of Wales, looks its best from the sea. At least so thought Mr. Morgan as he sat in the sternsheets of his boat, a fishing-line between his fi...

Dusk was already falling when a short, rather stout man with keen blue eyes from which a twinkle never seemed far removed, alighted from the London train at Burry Port and made...

Tom Manners was hoeing in his little garden when French hailed him. He was not a native, but the course of a long career had led him from Shoreditch, _via_ the Royal Navy, to Bu...

“Glad to see you, Mr. French,” the superintendent greeted him. “I’ve known your name for a considerable time and since I heard you were down over this job I’ve been hoping we sh...

He had enjoyed his run, particularly the latter portion through the charming South Devonshire scenery, along the coast under the red cliffs of Dawlish and Teignmouth, and then i...

The letter was written on a single sheet of cream-laid, court-sized paper and bore the legend “Euston Hotel, London. N. W. 1.” in blue type on its right corner. It was typed in...

French saw that in order to get the information he required he must confide in some one who knew the locality. He therefore went down next morning to the police station to consu...

It is wonderful what an effect a good night’s sleep and a bright morning will have on the mind of a healthy man. French had gone to bed tired and worried about this case. He wok...

French believed that he had obtained all the available information about the Berlyns from his interview with the sergeant and Lizzie Johnston. Pyke was the next name on his list...

First he should satisfy himself that everything possible had been done to trace the letter-writers of the Euston and St. Pancras hotels and the purchaser of the money order for...

As he considered on which he should first concentrate, his mind fastened on the one point which at the time had seemed not completely satisfactory—the slightly suspicious manner...

The saying “it never rains but what it pours” is a popular expression of the unhappy fact that misfortunes never come singly. Fortunately for suffering humanity, the phrase expr...

French’s new idea had been subconsciously in his mind from the very first, but probably owing to his theory of the guilt of one of the two men supposed to be lost, he had never...

On reaching the road, French returned to his clump of brushwood and once more concealed himself. He was anxious to intercept Domlio before he reached home and received the accou...

“I’ve got the loan of one, Mr. French, or at least I’ll get it first thing to-morrow. From a quarry close by. It’s a rotary hand-pump, and Mr. Glenn, the manager, tells me that...

That night as French was writing up his diary the question he had asked Domlio recurred to him. “Tell me, Colonel,” he had said, “did it not strike you as strange that Mrs. Berl...

Before leaving Plymouth French had wired to Mrs. Berlyn, asking for an interview for the following Monday morning. On reaching the Yard he found a reply. If he called round abou...

French telephoned for a relief to take over the shadowing of Pyke during the afternoon, but by six o’clock he was back in Kepple Street, with the intention of being, if possible...

“No, sir. He has taken a suitcase with him, a brown leather one of medium size. I got the description from Mrs. Welsh. She says she noticed it here yesterday afternoon and it’s...

“Both safe as a house,” Carter answered. “I thought you were taking too long over the job and was coming up the fire escape when I heard you shout. Lucky I got up in time. But i...