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154 pages

English

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Settle in for a wild, thrill-a-minute ride with Fred M. White's The Mystery of the Four Fingers. Far underground in a gold mine in Mexico, a death occurs under very unusual circumstances. A group of amateur detectives decides to try their hand at solving the case -- unwittingly putting their own lives at risk. Will this interlocking set of crimes ever be solved?

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Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 février 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781776529452
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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THE MYSTERY OF THE FOUR FINGERS
* * *
FRED M. WHITE

*
The Mystery of the Four Fingers First published in 1908 Epub ISBN 978-1-77652-945-2 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77652-946-9 © 2013 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
*
Chapter I - The Black Patch Chapter II - The First Finger Chapter III - The Lost Mine Chapter IV - In the Lift Chapter V - A Puzzle for Venner Chapter VI - A Partial Failure Chapter VII - The White Lady Chapter VIII - Missing Chapter IX - A New Phase Chapter X - The Second Finger Chapter XI - An Unexpected Move Chapter XII - The House Next Door Chapter XIII - The White Lady Again Chapter XIV - Master of the Situation Chapter XV - Felix Zary Chapter XVI - Fenwick Moves Again Chapter XVII - Merton Grange Chapter XVIII - A Couple of Visitors Chapter XIX - Phantom Gold Chapter XX - The Prodigal's Return Chapter XXI - The Third Finger Chapter XXII - "The Time Will Come" Chapter XXIII - Smoked Out Chapter XXIV - The Mouth of the Net Chapter XXV - An Act of Charity Chapter XXVI - The Last Finger Chapter XXVII - Nemesis Chapter XXVIII - Explanations Chapter XXIX - This Mortal Coil Chapter XXX - A Peaceful Sunset
Chapter I - The Black Patch
*
Considering it was nearly the height of the London winter season, theGreat Empire Hotel was not unusually crowded. This might perhaps havebeen owing to the fact that two or three of the finest suites of rooms inthe building had been engaged by Mark Fenwick, who was popularly supposedto be the last thing in the way of American multi-millionaires. No oneknew precisely who Fenwick was, or how he had made his money; but duringthe last few months his name had bulked largely in the financial Pressand the daily periodicals of a sensational character. So far, the man hadhardly been seen, it being understood that he was suffering from a chill,contracted on his voyage to Europe. Up to the present moment he had takenall his meals in his rooms, but it was whispered now that the great manwas coming down to dinner. There was quite a flutter of excitement in theVenetian dining-room about eight o'clock.
The beautifully decorated saloon had a sprinkling of well-dressed menand women already dining decorously there. Everything was decorous aboutthe Great Empire Hotel. No thought had been spared in the effort to keepthe place quiet and select. The carpets were extra thick, and the waitersmore than usually soft-footed. On the whole, it was a restful place,though, perhaps, the decorative scheme of its lighting erred just atrifle on the side of the sombre. Still, flowers and ferns were soft andfeathery. The band played just loudly enough to stimulate conversationinstead of drowning it. At one of the little tables near the door two menwere dining. One had the alertness and vigor which bespeaks the dwellerin towns. He was neatly groomed, with just the slight suspicion of thedandy in his dress, though it was obvious at the merest glance that hewas a gentleman. His short, sleek hair gave to his head a certainsuggestion of strength. The eyes which gleamed behind his gold-rimmedglasses were keen and steady. Most men about town were acquainted withthe name of Jim Gurdon, as a generation before had been acquainted withhis prowess in the athletic field. Now he was a successful barrister,though his ample private means rendered professional work quiteunnecessary.
The other man was taller, and more loose-limbed, though his spare framesuggested great physical strength. He was dark in a hawk-like way,though the suggestion of the adventurer about him was softened by a pairof frank and pleasant grey eyes. Gerald Venner was tanned to a fine,healthy bronze by many years of wandering all over the world; in fact, hewas one of those restless Englishmen who cannot for long be satisfiedwithout risking his life in some adventure or other.
The two friends sat there quietly over their dinner, criticising fromtime to time those about them.
"After all," Gurdon said presently, "you must admit that there issomething in our civilization. Now, isn't this better than starving undera thin blanket, with a chance of being murdered before morning?"
Venner shrugged his shoulders indifferently.
"I don't know," he said. "There is something in danger that stimulatesme; in fact, it is the only thing that makes life worth living, I daresay you have wondered why it is that I have never settled down andbecome respectable like the rest of you. If you heard my story, youwould not be surprised at my eccentric mode of living; at any rate, itenables me to forget."
Venner uttered the last words slowly and sadly, as if he were talkingto himself, and had forgotten the presence of his companion. Therewas a speculative look in his eyes, much as if London had vanishedand he could see the orchids on the table before him growing in theirnative forests.
"I suppose I don't look much like a man with a past," he went on; "likea man who is the victim of a great sorrow. I'll tell you the storypresently, but not here; I really could not do it in surroundings likethese. I've tried everything, even to money-making, but that is theworst and most unsatisfactory process of the lot. There is nothing sosordid as that."
"Oh, I don't know," Gurdon laughed. "It is better to be amulti-millionaire than a king today. Take the case of this man Fenwick,for instance; the papers are making more fuss of him than if he were thePresident of the United States or royalty travelling incognito."
Venner smiled more or less contemptuously. He turned to take a casualglance at a noisy party who had just come into the dining room, for thefrivolous note jarred upon him. Almost immediately the little party satdown, and the decorous air of the room seemed to subdue them. Immediatelybehind them followed a man who came dragging his limbs behind him,supported on either side by a servant. He was quite a young man, with awonderfully handsome, clean-shaven face. Indeed, so handsome was he, thatVenner could think of no more fitting simile for his beauty than thetrite old comparison of the Greek god. The man's features were perfectlychiselled, slightly melancholy and romantic, and strongly suggestive ofthe early portraits of Lord Byron. Yet, all the same, the almost perfectface was from time to time twisted and distorted with pain, and from timeto time there came into the dark, melancholy eyes a look of almostmalignant fury. It was evident that the newcomer suffered from rackingpain, for his lips were twitching, and Venner could see that his even,white teeth were clenched together. On the whole, it was a strikingfigure to intrude upon the smooth gaiety of the dining-room, for itseemed to Venner that death and the stranger were more than casualacquaintances. He had an idea that it was only a strong will which keptthe invalid on this side of the grave.
The sufferer sank at length with a sigh of relief into a large armchair,which had been specially placed for him. He waved the servants aside asif he had no further use for them, and commenced to study his menu , asif he had no thought for anything else. Venner did not fail to note thatthe man had the full use of his arms, and his eye dwelt with criticalapproval on the strong, muscular hands and wrists.
"I wonder who that fellow is?" he said. "What a magnificent frame hismust have been before he got so terribly broken up."
"He is certainly a fascinating personality," Gurdon admitted. "Somehow,he strikes me not so much as the victim of an accident as an unfortunatebeing who is suffering from the result of some terrible form ofvengeance. What a character he would make for a story! I am ready to betanything in reason that if we could get to the bottom of his history itwould be a most dramatic one. It regularly appeals to the imagination. Ican quite believe our friend yonder has dragged himself out of bed bysheer force of will to keep some appointment whereby he can wreak hislong nursed revenge."
"Not in a place like this," Venner smiled.
"Why not? In the old days these things used to be played out to theaccompaniment of thunder and lightning on a blasted heath. Now we aremuch more quiet and gentle in our methods. It is quite evident that ourhandsome friend is expecting someone to dine with him. He gives a mostexcellent dinner to his enemy, points out to him his faults in the mostgentlemanly fashion, and then proceeds to poison him with a speciallyprepared cigar. I can see the whole thing in the form of a short story."
Venner smiled at the conceit of his companion. He was more than halfinclined to take a sentimental view of the thing himself. He turned tothe waiter to give some order, and as he did so, his eyes encountered twomore people, a man and a woman, who, at that moment, entered thedining-room. The man was somewhat past middle age, with a large baldhead, covered with a shining dome of yellow skin, and a yellow facelighted by a pair of deep-sunk dark eyes. The whole was set off andrendered sinister by a small hook nose and a little black moustache. Forthe rest, the man was short and inclined to be stout. He walked with awonderfully light and agile step for a man of his weight; in fact heseemed to reach his seat much as a cat might have done. Indeed, despitehis bulk, there was something strangely feline about the stranger.
Venner gave a peculiar gasp and gurgle. His eyes started. All the bloodreceded from his brown face, leaving him ghastly white under his