A detective story which solves in an exceedingly clever manner the inexplicable death of a prosperous stockbroker and the secret of his life. The reader's attention is first caught by a mysterious letter, the key to the situation, and is held to the end by a series of ingenious devices.
e embarrassment of the occasion could not release me.
The dead man was Archibald Gillespie, the well-known stockbroker and railroad magnate, whose name, as well as those of his three spendthrift sons, was in every man's mouth since that big deal by which he had made two millions in less than two months.
Meanwhile one of the gentlemen who had accompanied the two Gillespies into the room where their father lay, came out looking very pale. He was a doctor, though to all appearance not the family physician.
"Will one of you go for Dr. Bennett?" he asked. "Bring him at once and at any cost; Mr. Gillespie cannot be moved till he comes."
Dr. Bennett evidently was the family physician.
"Why can't he be moved?" called out a voice near me. "Is there anything wrong? Mr. Gillespie was violently sick a month ago. I suppose he got around too quickly."
But the young doctor, without replying, stepped back into the room, leaving us all agog, though few of us ventured upon open remonst
Superbly written until the end which was a bit disappointing. This wont reduce my five points, however.