gardens

As always, the reader has an interesting task: to solve who is the killer. An unknown man returning home in the evening clutches at his throat and dies. He died from poisoning. The police are conducting a full investigation, but no overt suspects arise.

A story that quite often happens in the modern world. Dorchester Gardens were filled with guests gathered in honour of the engagement between Lady Letty and Stephen Du Cros, the South African millionaire. Of course, it was a marriage of convenience – they all admitted. Earl, her father, was in need of money.

General Besserley sat before his writing-table, drawn close up to the wide-flung windows of his summer-house, his pen clasped in his idle fingers, his eyes wandering though a tangle of drooping roses and clematis beyond the gardens below to where a car was crawling up the mountain road. He leaned a little sideways and touched a bell. In a few moments a white-coated butler opened the door and approached...

We were standing together in the small shabby bedroom of the boarding-house wherein I lived in Granville Gardens, facing the recreation ground close to Shepherd’s Bush Railway Station. The stifling July day was at an end, and the narrow room was lit by the soft hazy glow of the fast-fading London sunset. Through the open window came the shouts of children at play upon the „green” opposite, mingled...