CLEEK'S GOVERNMENT CASES – the Detective Hamilton Cleek Mysteries by Thomas W. Hanshew

Author:Thomas W. Hanshew [Hanshew, Thomas W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9788026866244
Publisher: e-artnow
Published: 2016-06-27T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XVI.

Table of Contents

THEY found it "a long, long way to Cornwall" indeed, but at last even that way was traversed, and they stood at the front door of a big, rambling old country house, low and long, with gabled roof and ivy-covered walls, awaiting admittance to its precincts. That was not long forthcoming, and when Mr. Narkom, with Cleek at his side, passed into the low-ceiled drawing-room, it was nearer luncheon than breakfast, for they had travelled all night in the limousine, and had not even waited to snatch forty winks at the village inn where they stopped for breakfast.

Mr. Luton-Bayber himself ushered them into the room, and then closed the door softly behind him. His face was the face of a man in awful anguish of soul, his eyes looked restless and haggard, and there were deep lines of care about his narrow, closelipped mouth.

"I don't know how to begin, Mr. Headland," he said listlessly, after Mr. Narkom had performed the necessary introduction, and "Mr. George Headland" stood confessed before them. "It's all been so terrible and unwarranted! The local police could make nothing of it, so I took the matter into my own hands, and sent to Scotland Yard at once. Mr. Xarkom here kindly came down by the next train. He has told you all the details, I expect.

"Most of them, certainly," gave back Mr. Headland in his slow, stupid voice. "No suspicion of foul play, I suppose? Or kidnappers? Was your boy likely to come into any property which might induce some unscrupulous rascal to hold him in ransom? I take it, Mr. Luton-Bayber, that you are a man of means. Pardon the question, but a policeman, you know, has privileges which an ordinary gentleman has not."

"Yes, certainly," responded Mr. Luton-Bayber quietly. "My business is a great one, or was, for I have since sold it for an enormous sum of money, which my only son Ronald would one day inherit. In fact, now, he owned most of the farm lands about here; arable culture, Mr. Headland, was my line, but on a very great scale, and I had theories which fortunately enabled me to 'strike it good,' as our American cousins would say. Ronald was the youngest landowner anywhere around, and the tenants of the different farms that belonged to the little chap took a great delight in dubbing him 'the little Squire,' and always sent their rents in to him. It delighted him a good deal. My nephew, young Geoffrey Fawcett, only son of my eldest brother, is next of kin. He is a fine young fellow, and is staying with us now. High spirited usually, but of late I think something has been preying on his mind, for he has grown morose and silent, and hardly spoke to anybody but little Ronald. Now that the boy has gone, Mr. Headland, he is desolate, as we are; absolutely desolate."

Mr. Luton-Bayber paused a moment and drew a deep breath. His eyes searched Cleek's face for any sign, any clue.

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