FRIENDS
XXXI. THE DE GENNEVILLE PEERAGE
XXXII. A HIGH-BRED GENTLEMAN
XXXIII. THE LIVING AND THE DEAD
XXXIV. THE MYSTERIOUS DEATH IN PERCY STREET
XXXV. SUICIDE OR MURDER?
XXXVI. THE END
THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER
CHAPTER I
THE FENCHURCH STREET MYSTERY
The man in the corner pushed aside his glass, and leant across the
table.
"Mysteries!" he commented. "There is no such thing as a mystery in
connection with any crime, provided intelligence is brought to bear upon
its investigation."
Very much astonished Polly Burton looked over the top of her newspaper,
and fixed a pair of very severe, coldly inquiring brown eyes upon him.
She had disapproved of the man from the instant when he shuffled across
the shop and sat down opposite to her, at the same marble-topped table
which already held her large coffee (3d.), her roll and butter (2d.),
and plate of tongue (6d.).
Now this particular corner, this very same table, that special view of
the magnificent marble hall--known as the Norfolk Street branch of the
Aerated Bread Company's depots--were Polly's own corner, table, and
view. Here she had partaken of eleven pennyworth of luncheon and one
pennyworth of daily information ever since that glorious
never-to-be-forgotten day when she was enrolled on the staff of the
_Evening Observer_ (we'll call it that, if you please), and became a
member of that illustrious and world-famed organization known as the
British Press.
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