The Riddle of the Frozen Flame by Mary E. Hanshew;Thomas W. Hanshew
page 77 of 237 (32%)
page 77 of 237 (32%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
surrounding country, after having satiated themselves at the fountain of
London's gaieties, and bore the pseudonyms of "George Headland" and "Mr. Gregory Lake" respectively. Cleek himself was primed, so to speak, on every point of the landscape. He knew all about Fetchworth that there was to know--saving the secret of the Frozen Flames, and that he was expected to know very soon--and the traffic of Saltfleet Bay and its tiny harbour was an open book to him. Even Withersby Hall and its environs had had the same close intensive study, and everything that was to be learnt from guide-books, tourists' enquiry offices and the like, was hidden away in the innermost recesses of his remarkable brain. Borkins, standing at the smoking-room window--a favourite haunt of his from which he was able to see without too ostensibly being seen--noted their coming up the broad driveway, with something of disfavour in his look. Merriton had given him certain directions only the night before, and Borkins was a keen-sighted man. Also, the little fat johnny at any rate, didn't quite look the type of man that the Merriton's were in the habit of entertaining at the Towers. However, he opened the door with a flourish, and told the gentlemen that "Sir Nigel is in the drorin'-room," whither he led them with much pomp. Cleek took in the place at a glance. Noted the wide, deep hallway; the old-fashioned outlines of the house, smartened up freshly by the hands of modern workmen; the set of each door and window that he passed, and stowed away these impressions in the pigeon-holes of his mind. As he proceeded to the drawing-room he set out in his mind's eye the whole scene of that night's occurrence as had been related to him by Sir Nigel. |
|