The Secret House

A man stood irresolutely before the imposing portals of Cainbury House, a large office building let out to numerous small tenants, and harbouring, as the indicator on the tiled...

This was the cry which rang out in the stillness of the night, and aroused the interest of one inhabitant of Brakely Square who was awake. Mr. Gregory Farrington, a victim of in...

T. B. Smith sat alone in his office in Scotland Yard. Outside, the Embankment, the river, even the bulk of the Houses of Parliament were blotted out by the dense fog. For two da...

It was a bad night in London, not wild or turbulent, but swathed to the eyes like an Eastern woman in a soft grey garment of fog. It engulfed the walled canyons of the city, thr...

The fog was still heavy, and the blurred street-lamps looked ghastly in the yellow mist, when the little newsboy messenger, the first half of his mission performed, struck brisk...

At precisely ten o'clock, as the curtain came reefing slowly down upon the first act of _The Strand Girl_, Lady Dinsmore turned with outstretched hand to greet the first of the...

He stood for a moment, drawing in the fresh March air, sweet with the breath of approaching spring. The fog of last night had vanished, leaving no trace. He caught the scent of...

It was the morning after the recovery of Farrington's body that T. B. Smith sat in his big study overlooking Brakely Square. He had finished his frugal breakfast, the tray had b...

T. B. Smith came down to Great Bradley with only one object in view. He knew that the solution to the mystery, not only of Farrington's disappearance, but possibly the identity...

Count Poltavo, a busy man of affairs in these days, walked up the stairs of the big block of flats in which he had his modest dwelling with a little smile upon his lips and a se...

"I wish to see Mr. Moole," replied Poltavo. He stood at the door of the Secret House, and after a brief scrutiny the big-faced doctor admitted him, closing the door behind him.

The distant chime of Little Bradley church had struck one o'clock, when T. B. Smith stepped from the shadow of the hedge on the east side of the Secret House, and walked slowly...

Doris Gray was face to face with a dilemma. She stood in a tragic position; even now, she could not be sure that her guardian was dead. But dead or alive, he had left her a terr...

As T. B. had said, Poltavo had returned from his brief sojourn in Great Bradley, and emerged into society a new and more radiant being than ever he had been before.

In the rectory at Great Bradley, Lady Constance Dex arose from a sleepless night to confront her placid brother at the breakfast table. The Reverend Jeremiah Bangley, a stout an...

The morning of Doris Gray's wedding dawned fair and bright, and she sat by the window which overlooked the gardens in Brakely Square, her hands clasped across her knees, her min...

"Then I will put it in plain language for you," said T. B. as he speared a sardine from the _hors d'oeuvre_ dish. "Farrington knew all along that the heir to the Tollington mill...

It was three days after the exchange of letters that Count Poltavo, in the rough tweeds of a country gentleman--a garb which hardly suited his figure or presence--strolled carel...

Farrington and Dr. Fall were closeted together in the latter's office. Something had happened, which was responsible for the gloom on the face of the usually imperturbable docto...

T. B. Smith's inspection of the Secret House had yielded nothing satisfactory; he had not expected that it would; he was perfectly satisfied that the keen, shrewd brains which d...

He raced up the garden path, but it was not toward the Secret House that he directed his steps; he made a detour through a little plantation to the power house.