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The Floating Press - Carolyn Wells

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148 pages

English

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Renowned detective Fleming Stone is back again in this captivating whodunit with some spooky supernatural elements. When a titan of industry is found dead in his lavish apartment, there is a mysterious lack of motive, means and suspects -- until a relative of the victim steps forward with an incredible tale of an encounter with the dead man's ghost, whose appearance coincided with an overwhelming taste and smell of raspberry jam.

Informations

Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 juillet 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781776539796
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.

Extrait

RASPBERRY JAM
* * *
CAROLYN WELLS

*
Raspberry Jam First published in 1920 Epub ISBN 978-1-77653-979-6 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77653-980-2 © 2014 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
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Chapter I - The Great Hanlon Chapter II - A Trip to Newark Chapter III - The Stunt Chapter IV - The Emburys Chapter V - The Explanation Chapter VI - A Slammed Door Chapter VII - A Vision Chapter VIII - The Examiner Chapter IX - Hamlet Chapter X - A Confession Chapter XI - Fifi Chapter XII - In Hanlon's Office Chapter XIII - Fleming Stone Chapter XIV - The Five Senses Chapter XV - Marigny the Medium Chapter XVI - Fibsy's Busy Day Chapter XVII - Hanlon's Ambition Chapter XVIII - The Guilty One
Chapter I - The Great Hanlon
*
"You may contradict me as flat as a flounder, Eunice, but that won'talter the facts. There is something in telepathy—there is somethingin mind-reading—"
"If you could read my mind, Aunt Abby, you'd drop that subject. For ifyou keep on, I may say what I think, and—"
"Oh, that won't bother me in the least. I know what you think, butyour thoughts are so chaotic—so ignorant of the whole matter—thatthey are worthless. Now, listen to this from the paper: 'Hanlon willwalk blindfolded—blindfolded, mind you—through the streets of Newark,and will find an article hidden by a representative of The Free Press.'Of course, you know, Eunice, the newspaper people are on thesquare—why, there'd be no sense to the whole thing otherwise! I saw anexhibition once, you were a little girl then; I remember you flew intosuch a rage because you couldn't go. Well, where was I? Let mesee—oh, yes—'Hanlon—' H'm—h'm—why, my goodness! it's to-morrow!How I do want to go! Do you suppose Sanford would take us?"
"I do not, unless he loses his mind first. Aunt Abby, you're crazy!What is the thing, anyway? Some common street show?"
"If you'd listen, Eunice, and pay a little attention, you might knowwhat I'm talking about. But as soon as I say telepathy you begin tolaugh and make fun of it all!"
"I haven't heard anything yet to make fun of. What's it all about?"
But as she spoke, Eunice Embury was moving about the room, the bigliving-room of their Park Avenue apartment, and in a preoccupied waywas patting her household gods on their shoulders. A readjustment ofthe pink carnations in a tall glass vase, a turning round of along-stemmed rose in a silver holder, a punch here and there to thepillows of the davenport and at last dropping down on her desk chair asa hovering butterfly settles on a chosen flower.
A moment more and she was engrossed in some letters, and Aunt Abbysighed resignedly, quite hopeless now of interesting her niece in herproject.
"All the same, I'm going," she remarked, nodding her head at the backof the graceful figure sitting at the desk. "Newark isn't so far away;I could go alone—or maybe take Maggie—she'd love it—'Start from theOberon Theatre—at 2 P.M.—' 'Him, I could have an early lunchand—'hidden in any part of the city—only mentally directed—not aword spoken—' Just think of that, Eunice! It doesn't seem crediblethat—oh, my goodness! tomorrow is Red Cross day! Well, I can't helpit; such a chance as this doesn't happen twice. I wish I could coaxSanford—"
"You can't," murmured Eunice, without looking up from her writing.
"Then I'll go alone!" Aunt Abby spoke with spirit, and her bright blackeyes snapped with determination as she nodded her white head. "Youcan't monopolize the willpower of the whole family, Eunice Embury!"
"I don't want to! But I can have a voice in the matters of my ownhouse and family yes, and guests! I can't spare Maggie to-morrow. Youwell know Sanford won't go on any such wild goose chase with you, andI'm sure I won't. You can't go alone—and anyway, the whole thing isbosh and nonsense. Let me hear no more of it!"
Eunice picked up her pen, but she cast a sidelong glance at her aunt tosee if she accepted the situation.
She did not. Miss Abby Ames was a lady of decision, and she had onehobby, for the pursuit of which she would attempt to overcome anyobstacle.
"You needn't hear any more of it, Eunice," she said, curtly. "I am nota child to be allowed out or kept at home! I shall go to Newarkto-morrow to see this performance, and I shall go alone, and—"
"You'll do nothing of the sort! You'd look nice starting off alone ona railroad trip! Why, I don't believe you've ever been to Newark inyour life! Nobody has! It isn't done!"
Eunice was half whimsical, half angry, but her stormy eyes presagedcombat and her rising color indicated decided annoyance.
"Done!" cried her aunt. "Conventions mean nothing to me! Abby Amesmakes social laws—she does not obey those made by others!"
"You can't do that in New York, Aunt Abby. In your old Boston, perhapsyou had a certain dictatorship, but it won't do here. Moreover, I haverights as your hostess, and I forbid you to go skylarking about byyourself."
"You amuse me, Eunice!"
"I had no intention of being funny, I assure you."
"While not distinctly humorous, the idea of your forbidding me is,well—oh, my gracious, Eunice, listen to this: 'The man chosen forHanlon's "guide" is the Hon. James L. Mortimer—'—h'm—'High Street—'Why, Eunice, I've heard of Mortimer—he's—"
"I don't care who he is, Aunt Abby, and I wish you'd drop the subject."
"I won't drop it—it's too interesting! Oh, my! I wish we could goout there in the big car—then we could follow him round—"
"Hush! Go out to Newark in the car! Trail round the streets andalleys after a fool mountebank! With a horde of gamins and low, horridmen crowding about—"
"They won't be allowed to crowd about!"
"And yelling—"
"I admit the yelling—"
"Aunt Abby, you're impossible!" Eunice rose, and scowled irately ather aunt. Her temper, always quick, was at times ungovernable, and wasoftenest roused at the suggestion of any topic or proceeding thatjarred on her taste. Exclusive to the point of absurdity, fastidiousin all her ways, Mrs. Embury was, so far as possible, in the world butnot of it.
Both she and her husband rejoiced in the smallness of their friendlycircle, and shrank from any unnecessary association with hoi polloi.
And Aunt Abby Ames, their not entirely welcome guest, was of adifferent nature, and possessed of another scale of standards. Securein her New England aristocracy, calmly conscious of her innaterefinement, she permitted herself any lapses from conventional lawsthat recommended themselves to her inclination.
And it cannot be denied that the investigation of her pet subject, thesatisfaction of her curiosity concerning occult matters and herdiligent inquiries into the mysteries of the supernatural did lead herinto places and scenes not at all in harmony with Eunice's ideas ofpropriety.
"Not another word of that rubbish, Auntie; the subject is taboo," andEunice waved her hand with the air of one who dismisses a mattercompletely.
"Don't you think you can come any of your high and mighty airs on me!"retorted the elder lady. "It doesn't seem so very many years ago thatI spanked you and shut you in the closet for impudence. The fact thatyou are now Mrs. Sanford Embury instead of little Eunice Ames hasn'tchanged my attitude toward you!"
"Oh, Auntie, you are too ridiculous!" and Eunice laughed outright."But the tables are turned, and I am not only Mrs. Sanford Embury butyour hostess, and, as such, entitled to your polite regard for mywishes."
"Tomfoolery talk, my dear; I'll give you all the polite regard you areentitled to, but I shall carry out my own wishes, even though they runcontrary to yours. And to-morrow I prance out to Newark, N.J., yourorders to the contrary notwithstanding!"
The aristocratic old head went up and the aristocratic old nose sniffeddisdainfully, for though Eunice Embury was strong-willed, her aunt wasequally so, and in a clash of opinions Miss Ames not infrequently wonout.
Eunice didn't sulk, that was not her nature; she turned back to herwriting desk with an offended air, but with a smile as of one whotolerates the vagaries of an inferior. This, she knew, would irritateher aunt more than further words could do.
And yet, Eunice Embury was neither mean nor spiteful of disposition.She had a furious temper, but she tried hard to control it, and when itdid break loose, the spasm was but of short duration and she was sorryfor it afterward. Her husband declared he had tamed her, and thatsince her marriage, about two years ago, his wise, calm influence hadcurbed her tendency to fly into a rage and had made her far moreequable and placid of disposition.
His methods had been drastic—somewhat like those of Petruchio towardKatherine. When his wife grew angry, Sanford Embury grew more so andby harder words and more scathing sarcasms he—as he expressed it—tookthe wind out of her sails and rendered her helplessly vanquished.
And yet they were a congenial pair. Their tastes were similar; theyliked the same people, the same books, the same plays. Eunice approvedof Sanford's correct ways and perfect intuitions and he admired herbeauty and dainty grace.
Neither of them loved Aunt Abby—the sister of Eunice's father—but herannual visit was customary and unavoidable.
The city apartment of the Sanfords had no guestroom, and therefore thevisitor must needs occupy Eunice's charming boudoir and dressing-roomas a bedroom. This inconvenienced the Emburys, but they put up with itperforce.
Nor would they have so disliked to entertain t