Room Number 3, and Other Detective Stories. Анна Грин

      Published by Good Press, 2021

       [email protected]

      EAN 4057664610553

Table of Contents

       ROOM NUMBER 3

       I

       II

       III

       IV

       V

       MIDNIGHT IN BEAUCHAMP ROW

       THE RUBY AND THE CALDRON

       THE LITTLE STEEL COILS

       I

       II

       THE STAIRCASE AT HEART'S DELIGHT

       THE AMETHYST BOX

       I

       THE FLASK WHICH HELD BUT A DROP

       II

       BEATON'S DREAM

       III

       A SCREAM IN THE NIGHT

       IV

       WHAT SINCLAIR HAD TO TELL ME

       V

       THREE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING

       VI

       DOROTHY SPEAKS

       VII

       CONSTRAINT

       VIII

       GILBERTINE SPEAKS

       IX

       IN THE LITTLE BOUDOIR

       THE GREY LADY

       THE THIEF

       THE HOUSE IN THE MIST

       I

       AN OPEN DOOR

       II

       WITH MY EAR TO THE WAINSCOTING

       III

       A LIFE DRAMA

       IV

       THE FINAL SHOCK

ROOM NUMBER 3

       Table of Contents

I

       Table of Contents

      "What door is that? You've opened all the others; why do you pass that one by?"

      "Oh, that! That's only Number 3. A mere closet, gentlemen," responded the landlord in a pleasant voice. "To be sure, we sometimes use it as a sleeping-room when we are hard pushed. Jake, the clerk you saw below, used it last night. But it's not on our regular list. Do you want a peep at it?"

      "Most assuredly. As you know, it's our duty to see every room in this house, whether it is on your regular list or not."

      "All right. I haven't the key of this one with me. But—yes, I have. There, gentlemen!" he cried, unlocking the door and holding it open for them to look inside. "You see it no more answers the young lady's description than the others do. And I haven't another to show you. You have seen all those in front, and this is the last one in the rear. You'll have to believe our story. The old lady never put foot in this tavern."

      The two men he addressed peered into the shadowy recesses before them, and one of them, a tall and uncommonly good-looking young man of stalwart build and unusually earnest manner, stepped softly inside. He was a gentleman farmer living near, recently appointed deputy sheriff on account of a recent outbreak of horse-stealing in the neighbourhood.

      "I observe," he remarked, after a hurried glance about him, "that the paper on these walls is not at all like that she describes. She was very particular about the paper; said that it was of a muddy pink colour and had big scrolls on it which seemed to move and crawl about in whirls as you looked at it. This paper is blue and striped. Otherwise——"

      "Let's go below," suggested his companion, who, from the deference with which his most casual word was received, was evidently a man of some authority. "It's cold here, and there are several new questions I should like to put to the young lady. Mr. Quimby,"—this to the landlord, "I've no doubt you are right, but we'll give this poor girl another chance. I believe in giving every one the utmost chance possible."

      "My reputation is in your hands, Coroner Golden," was the quiet reply. Then, as they both turned, "my reputation against the word of an obviously demented girl."

      The words made their own echo. As the third man moved to follow the other two into the hall, he seemed to catch this echo, for he involuntarily cast another look behind him as if expectant of some contradiction reaching him from the bare and melancholy walls he was leaving. But no such contradiction came. Instead, he appeared to read confirmation there of the landlord's plain and unembittered statement. The dull blue paper