THE YELLOW CLAW. Sax Rohmer

elevated her. For

      many years she held no open communication with any member of her

      family, but latterly, as I have explained, she acquired the habit of

      recuperating--recuperating from the effects of her febrile pleasures--at

      this obscure place in Scotland. And Mr. Vernon, his interest in

      her movements having considerably--shall I say abated?--offered no

      objection: even suffered it gladly, counting the cost but little

      against”...

      “Freedom?” suggested Dunbar, scribbling in his notebook.

      “Rather crudely expressed, perhaps,” said the solicitor, peering

      over the top of his glasses, “but you have the idea. I come now to my

      client's awakening. Four days ago, he learned the truth; he learned that

      he was being deceived!”

      “Deceived!”

      “Mrs. Vernon, thoroughly exhausted with irregular living, announced

      that she was about to resort once more to the healing breezes of the

      heather-land”--Mr. Debnam was thoroughly warming to his discourse and

      thoroughly enjoying his own dusty phrases.

      “Interrupting you for a moment,” said the inspector, “at what intervals

      did these visits take place?”

      “At remarkably regular intervals, Inspector: something like six times a

      year.”

      “For how long had Mrs. Vernon made a custom of these visits?”

      “Roughly, for two years.”

      “Thank you. Will you go on, sir?”

      “She requested Mr. Vernon, then, on the last occasion to give her a

      check for eighty pounds; and this he did, unquestioningly. On Thursday,

      the second of September, she left for Scotland”...

      “Did she take her maid?”

      “Her maid always received a holiday on these occasions; Mrs. Vernon

      wired her respecting the date of her return.”

      “Did any one actually see her off?”

      “No, not that I am aware of, Inspector.”

      “To put the whole thing quite bluntly, Mr. Debnam,” said Dunbar, fixing

      his tawny eyes upon the solicitor, “Mr. Vernon was thoroughly glad to

      get rid of her for a week?”

      Mr. Debnam shifted uneasily in his chair; the truculent directness of

      the detective was unpleasing to his tortuous mind. However:--

      “I fear you have hit upon the truth,” he confessed, “and I must admit

      that we have no legal evidence of her leaving for Scotland on this, or

      on any other occasion. Letters were received from Perth, and letters

      sent to Auchterander from London were answered. But the truth, the

      painful truth came to light, unexpectedly, dramatically, on Monday

      last”...

      “Four days ago?”

      “Exactly; three days before the death of my client.” Mr. Debnam wagged

      his finger at the inspector again. “I maintain,” he said, “that this

      painful discovery, which I am about to mention, precipitated my client's

      end; although it is a fact that there was--hereditary heart trouble.

      But I admit that his neglect of his wife (to give it no harsher name)

      contributed to the catastrophe.”

      He paused to give dramatic point to the revelation.

      “Walking homeward at a late hour on Monday evening from a flat in

      Victoria Street--the flat of--shall I employ the term a particular

      friend?--Mr. Vernon was horrified--horrified beyond measure, to

      perceive, in a large and well-appointed car--a limousine--his wife!”...

      “The inside lights of the car were on, then?”

      “No; but the light from a street lamp shone directly into the car. A

      temporary block in the traffic compelled the driver of the car, whom my

      client described to me as an Asiatic--to pull up for a moment. There,

      within a few yards of her husband, Mrs. Vernon reclined in the car--or

      rather in the arms of a male companion!”

      “What!”

      “Positively!” Mr. Debnam was sedately enjoying himself. “Positively, my

      dear Inspector, in the arms of a man of extremely dark complexion. Mr.

      Vernon was unable to perceive more than this, for the man had his back

      toward him. But the light shone fully upon the face of Mrs. Vernon, who

      appeared pale and exhausted. She wore a conspicuous motor-coat of civet

      fur, and it was this which first attracted Mr. Vernon's attention. The

      blow was a very severe one to a man in my client's state of health; and

      although I cannot claim that his own conscience was clear, this open

      violation of the marriage vows outraged the husband--outraged him. In

      fact he was so perturbed, that he stood there shaking, quivering,

      unable to speak or act, and the car drove away before he had recovered

      sufficient presence of mind to note the number.”

      “In which direction did the car proceed?”

      “Toward Victoria Station.”

      “Any other particulars?”

      “Not regarding the car, its driver, or its occupants; but early on the

      following morning, Mr. Vernon, very much shaken, called upon me and

      instructed me to despatch an agent to Perth immediately. My agent's

      report reached me at practically the same time as the news of my

      client's death”...

      “And his report was?”...

      “His report, Inspector, telegraphic, of course, was this: that no sister

      of Mrs. Vernon resided at the address; that the place was a cottage

      occupied by a certain Mrs. Fry and her husband; that the husband was of

      no occupation, and had no visible means of support”--he ticked off the

      points on the long forefinger--“that the Frys lived better than any

      of their neighbors; and--most important of all--that Mrs. Fry's maiden

      name, which my agent discovered by recourse to the parish register of

      marriages--was Ann Fairchild.”

      “What