The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Hampstead Mystery , by John R. Watson, et
al

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

Title: The Hampstead Mystery

Author: John R. Watson

Release Date: November 14, 2003 [eBook #10082]
[Date last updated: December 22, 2004]

Language: English

Character set encoding: US-ASCII

***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY ***

E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team

THE HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY

BY JOHN R. WATSON & ARTHUR J. REES

1916

TO ARTHUR BLACK IN MEMORY OF OLD TIMES

CHAPTER I

"Hallo! Is that Hampstead Police Station?"

"Yes. Who are you?"

"Detective-Inspector Chippenfield of Scotland Yard. Tell Inspector Seldon
I want him, and be quick about it."

"Yes, sir. Hang on, sir. I'll put you through to him at once."

Detective-Inspector Chippenfield, of Scotland Yard, waited with the
receiver held to his ear. While he waited he scrutinised keenly a sheet
of paper which lay on the desk in front of him. It was a flimsy,
faintly-ruled sheet from a cheap writing-pad, blotted and soiled, and
covered with sprawling letters which had been roughly printed at
irregular intervals as though to hide the identity of the writer. But the
letters formed words, and the words read:

SIR HORACE FEWBANKS WAS MURDERED LAST NIGHT

WHO DID IT I DONT KNOW SO IT IS NO USE TRYING TO FIND OUT WHO I AM YOU
WILL FIND HIS DEAD BODY IN THE LIBRARY AT RIVERSBROOK

HE WAS SHOT THOUGH THE HEART

"Hallo!"

"Is that you, Inspector Chippenfield?"

"Yes. That you, Seldon? Have you heard anything of a murder out
your way?"

"Can't say that I have. Have you?"

"Yes. We have information that Sir Horace Fewbanks has been
murdered--shot."

"Mr. Justice Fewbanks shot--murdered!" Inspector Seldon gave expression
to his surprise in a long low whistle which travelled through the
telephone. Then he added, after a moment's reflection, "There must be
some mistake. He is away."

"Away where?"

"In Scotland. He went there for the Twelfth--when the shooting
season opened."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Yes; he rang me up the day before he left to ask us to keep an