![]() ![]() More draped tables, gilded knickknacks, and people in silver frames. The butler returned after Fellows had paced for half an hour, and led him to a lavish sitting room across the hall. ![]() Mather must be feeling the pinch of that. But a couple of days ago, a notice had appeared in the newspaper that the wedding was off. He’d been about to marry a widow of means, which ought to have kept him from bankruptcy. Mather’s investments had been volatile, and he needed a large infusion of cash to help him out. Fellows knew, however, that Sir Lyndon Mather was a bit up against it. The reception room said, We have money, as though living in Park Lane hadn’t already conveyed the same. Someone had crammed the room with draped tables and costly objects d’art, including photographs in silver frames of stiff people. Anything to do with the Mackenzies was verboten to Detective Fellows, but Fellows reasoned that what his chief didn’t know would not hurt him.Ī stiff butler with his nose in the air answered the door and directed Fellows into an equally stiff reception room. He’d grated his teeth at the slowness of hansom cabs until he stood on the doorstep of the palatial house.įellows hadn’t bothered to mention the journey to his chief. ![]() So why had Fellows risked all by rushing to Park Lane to Mather’s summons? He’d read the note in rising excitement, burned it, then left the office. ![]()
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