CONTENTS | |
| CHAP. | |
| [I.] | The House Next Door. |
| [II.] | Hetty. |
| [III.] | The Face at the Window. |
| [IV.] | Weaving the Net. |
| [V.] | In the Morning Room. |
| [VI.] | A Visitor. |
| [VII.] | In the Morning Room. |
| [VIII.] | Paul Prout. |
| [IX.] | The Missing Notes. |
| [X.] | A Policy of Silence. |
| [XI.] | The Notes are Traced. |
| [XII.] | Prout is Puzzled. |
| [XIII.] | Second Sight. |
| [XIV.] | "Crowner's Quest." |
| [XV.] | Lawrence Prophesies Again. |
| [XVI.] | Mr. Charlton Speaks. |
| [XVII.] | The Gamblers. |
| [XVIII.] | Lawrence is Mysterious. |
| [XIX.] | Stolen! |
| [XX.] | "Uneasy Lies the Head----". |
| [XXI.] | Peril. |
| [XXII.] | For Love and Duty. |
| [XXIII.] | Ten Minutes Past Twelve. |
| [XXIV.] | Treasure Trove. |
| [XXV.] | A Check. |
| [XXVI.] | The Black Motor. |
| [XXVII.] | A Glass of Wine. |
| [XXVIII.] | Baffled!. |
| [XXIX.] | A Knock at the Door. |
| [XXX.] | Prout gets a Clue. |
| [XXXI.] | An Urgent Call. |
| [XXXII.] | Touch and Go. |
| [XXXIII.] | The Way Blocked. |
| [XXXIV.] | A Clever Move. |
| [XXXV.] | A Powerful Ally. |
| [XXXVI.] | A Faint Clue. |
| [XXXVII.] | The Talk of the Town. |
| [XXXVIII.] | Maitrank Strikes. |
| [XXXIX.] | Lawrence Shows his Hand. |
| [XL.] | Another Coil. |
| [XLI.] | Prout is Indiscrete. |
| [XLII.] | Fear! |
| [XLIII.] | A Slice of Luck. |
| [XLIV.] | At Last. |
| [XLV.] | A Chase. |
| [XLVI.] | Hetty Learns Something. |
| [XLVII.] | Flown. |
| [XLVIII.] | Hetty Speaks Out. |
| [XLIX.] | In the Dead of the Night. |
| [L.] | Threatened Ruin. |
| [LI.] | The Wolf is Unchained. |
| [LII.] | The Cage is Opened. |
| [LIII.] | Face to Face. |
| [LIV.] | A Stab in the Dark. |
| [LV.] | The Corner House Again. |
| [LVI.] | Now Then! |
| [LVII.] | A Way Out. |
| [LVIII.] | Nearing the End. |
| [LIX.] | Light in the Corner House. |
| [LX.] | Narrowed Down. |
| [LXI.] | Logic. |
| [LXII.] | Confession. |
| [LXIII.] | A Final Verdict. |
[CHAPTER I.]
THE HOUSE NEXT DOOR
A brilliant light streamed from the open doorway of No. 1, Lytton Avenue, making a lane of flame across the pavement, touching pinched gaunt faces that formed a striking contrast to the dazzling scene within. Outside it was cold and wet and sodden, inside was warmth, the glitter of electrics on palms and statuary and flowers, a sliding kaleidoscope of beautiful dresses. A touch of this grateful warmth came soft and perfumed down the steps, and a drawn Lazarus huddled in his rags and shivered.
"What's all this mean?" he growled to an equally indigent neighbour. There was a clatter and clash of harness as carriage after carriage drove up. "This ain't quite Park Lane, guv'nor."
"Anyway, it's the fashion," the other growled hoarsely. "I ought to know because I used to be one of them before the accursed drink--but that is another story. Ever heard of the Countess Lalage?"
"Oh, that's it. Lovely woman with a romantic history. Rich as thingamy, been proposed to by all the dukes what ain't married already. Read it in one of the evening papers."
Poverty and want were jostling with well dressed content on the pavement. It was one of the strangest and most painful contrasts that can be seen in the richest city in the world. And the contrast was heightened by the meanness of the Corner House.
Black, dark, deserted, grimy shuttered windows--a suggestion of creeping mystery about it. Time ago the Corner House was the centre of what might have been a thrilling tragedy. Some of the older neighbours could tell of a cry in the night, of the tramping of feet, of a beautiful woman with the poison still in her hand, of the stern, dark husband who said never a word, though the shadow of the scaffold lay heavily upon him.