(1929) The Three Just Men by Edgar Wallace Read Free Book Online Page A

burn his feet to find the idol or the treasure house: they must have known nothing of that It was easy to rob him—or, if they knew of his gold idol, they considered it too small loot to bother with.”
    He looked slowly round the apartment. On the mantelshelf was a slip of brown paper like a pipe-spill. He picked it up, looked at both sides, and, finding the paper blank, put it back where he had found it. Manfred took it down and absently drew the strip between his sensitive finger-tips.
    “The thing to do,” said Meadows, taking one final look round, “is to find Miss Leicester.”
    Manfred nodded.
    “That is one of the things,” he said slowly. “The other, of course, is to find Johnny.”
    “Johnny?” Meadows frowned suspiciously. “Who is Johnny?” he asked.
    “Johnny is my private mystery.” George Manfred was smiling. “You promised me that I might have one!”
    CHAPTER SIX - IN CHESTER SQUARE
    WHEN Mirabelle Leicester went to Chester Square, her emotions were a curious discord of wonder, curiosity and embarrassment. The latter was founded on the extraordinary effusiveness of her companion, who had suddenly, and with no justification, assumed the position of dearest friend and lifelong acquaintance. Mirabelle thought the girl was an actress: a profession in which sudden and violent friendships are not a rare occurrence. She wondered why Aunt Alma had not made an effort to come to town, and wondered more that she had known of Alma’s friendship with the Newtons. That the elder woman had her secrets was true, but there was no reason why she should have refrained from speaking of a family who were close enough friends to be asked to chaperon her in town.
    She had time for thought, for Joan Newton chattered away all the time, and if she asked a question, she either did not wait for approval, or the question was answered to her o satisfaction before it was put.
    Chester Square, that dignified patch of Belgravia, is an imposing quarter. The big house into which the girl was admitted by a footman had that air of luxurious comfort which would have appealed to a character less responsive to refinement than Mirabelle Leicester’s. She was ushered into a big drawing-room which ran from the front to the back of the house, and did not terminate even there, for a large, cool conservatory, bright with flowers, extended a considerable distance.
    “Monty isn’t back from the City yet,” Joan rattled on. “My dear! He’s awfully busy just now, what with stocks and shares and things like that.”
    She spoke as though “stocks and shares and things like that” were phenomena which had come into existence the day before yesterday for the occupation of Monty Newton.
    “Is there a boom?” asked Mirabelle with a smile, and the term seemed to puzzle the girl.
    “Ye-es, I suppose there is. You know what the Stock Exchange is, my dear? Everybody connected with it is wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice. The money they make is simply wicked! And they can give a girl an awfully good time—theatres, parties, dresses, pearls—why, Monty would think nothing of giving a string of pearls to a girl if he took a liking to her!”
    In truth Joan was walking on very uncertain ground. Her instructions had been simple and to the point. “Get her to Chester Gardens, make friends with her, and don’t mention the fact that I know Oberzohn.” What was the object of bringing Mirabelle Leicester to the house, what was behind this move of Monty’s, she did not know. She was merely playing for safety, baiting the ground, as it were, with her talk of good times and vast riches, in case that was required of her. For she, no less than many of her friends, entertained a wholesome dread of Monty Newton’s disapproval, which usually took a definite unpleasant shape.
    Mirabelle was laughing softly.
    “I didn’t know that stockbrokers were so rich,” she said dryly, “and I can assure you that some of them aren’t!”
    She passed