Day of Doom: The Complete Battles of Gordon Manning & The Griffin, Volume 2 by Dunn J. Allan

Author:Dunn, J. Allan [Dunn, J. Allan]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Detective/Hard-Boiled
Publisher: Altus Press
Published: 2015-06-29T04:00:00+00:00

Hunch!

The Young Man’s Story Sounded Like Merely a Lover’s Problem, but Manning’s Instinct Leads Him into a Deadly Mystery

Gordon Manning pushed forward two open boxes towards his visitor. One was of silver, wrought with writhing dragons in high relief, containing cigarettes. The other was carved in Polynesian tapa design from golden Hawaiian koa. He suggested a drink as he took out the letter of introduction from the unsealed envelope.

John Stanhope refused all three. He was wrought up, nervous as he pushed back a forelock of black hair from his bronzed forehead. Nervous, imaginative and demonstrative. Capable and determined. So Manning appraised.

The introduction bore a signature that was a compelling one for Manning. The writer was not one to ask favors for himself or others. Beyond question he considered Stanhope worthy of assistance.

“Where did you meet the colonel?” Manning asked, lighting his pipe.

“Pahang, Malay Peninsula. Four years ago. I was after tin. He smoothed the path for me. I hardly know why, except he seemed to take a fancy to me.”

Manning nodded. He could understand that. There was something compelling about his visitor’s ego. Manning had known the colonel in Johore. He was the sort to help younger men accomplish what he might no longer attempt himself.

“I don’t want to waste your time, Mr. Manning,” said Stanhope, his fists clenched, the fire of emotion and purpose in his dark eyes. “I know it’s valuable. I think you are the only man who can help me, though I did not expect to ask for that when I presented that letter. Four years ago I was in love with Alice Minturn. She lives now not far from you, in Pelham Manor, at a house called The Lilacs, with Elmer Brent and his sister, who are distant relatives. When I first knew her she was in college at Northampton and I was finishing at Princeton. She was also in love with me.”

He was clearly under great stress and Manning admired the succinct way in which he came to the point, stated his case.

“I found out that she was an heiress, very wealthy in her own right. An orphan. I had a few thousands. We had talked of marriage, but I told her I would not marry a rich girl while I was poor. I stuck to it, though it was hard to resist her.

“I had specialized in mineralogy at college. I got interested in the tin mines of the Malay Peninsula, perhaps, because it was so far away from Alice. She told me she would wait for me, forever. I made my pile. I sold out certain interests and retained others. I am a rich man. But now”—the light died out of his eyes, his fists opened—“everything has gone wrong.”

Manning sent up a ring of smoke to the ceiling. He knew the house called The Lilacs and he knew something of Elmer Brent, who was a sculptor. In a general way he knew they were the friendly guardians of a sick relation, a girl, but he did not recall her name.

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