J. S. Fletcher
Dead Men's Money
British Crime Thriller
Published by
Books
- Advanced Digital Solutions & High-Quality eBook Formatting -
2017 OK Publishing
ISBN 978-80-272-2002-1
Table of Contents
Chapter II. The Midnight Mission
Chapter V. The Brass-Bound Chest
Chapter VII. The Inquest on John Phillips
Chapter VIII. The Parish Registers
Chapter IX. The Marine-Store Dealer
Chapter XI. Signatures to the Will
Chapter XIII. Sir Gilbert Carstairs
Chapter XV. Five Hundred a Year
Chapter XVI. The Man in the Cell
Chapter XVII. The Irish Housekeeper
Chapter XX. The Samaritan Skipper
Chapter XXI. Mr. Gavin Smeaton
Chapter XXII. I Read my Own Obituary
Chapter XXIV. The Suit of Clothes
Chapter XXV. The Second Disappearance
Chapter XXVI. Mrs. Ralston of Craig
Chapter XXVII. The Bank Balance
Chapter XXVIII. The Hathercleugh Butler
Chapter XXX. The Carstairs Motto
Chapter I. The One-Eyed Man
The very beginning of this affair, which involved me, before I was aware of it, in as much villainy and wickedness as ever man heard of, was, of course, that spring evening, now ten years ago, whereon I looked out of my mother's front parlour window in the main street of Berwick-upon-Tweed and saw, standing right before the house, a man who had a black patch over his left eye, an old plaid thrown loosely round his shoulders, and in his right hand a stout stick and an old-fashioned carpet-bag. He caught sight of me as I caught sight of him, and he stirred, and made at once for our door. If I had possessed the power of seeing more than the obvious, I should have seen robbery, and murder, and the very devil himself coming in close attendance upon him as he crossed the pavement. But as it was, I saw nothing but a stranger, and I threw open the window and asked the man what he might be wanting.
"Lodgings!" he answered, jerking a thickly made thumb at a paper which my mother had that day set in the transom above the door. "Lodgings! You've lodgings to let for a single gentleman. I'm a single gentleman, and I want lodgings. For a month—maybe more. Money no object. Thorough respectability—on my part. Few needs and modest requirements. Not likely to give trouble. Open the door!"
I went into the passage and opened the door to him. He strode in without as much as a word, and, not waiting for my invitation, lurched heavily—he was a big, heavy-moving fellow—into the parlour, where he set down his bag, his plaid, and his stick, and dropping into an easy chair, gave a sort of groan as he looked at me.
"And what's your name?" he demanded, as if he had all the right in the world to walk into folks' houses and ask his questions. "Whatever it is, you're a likely-looking