Also published with the title "The Mystery of Mr. Bernard Brown".
of yellow stone, with a background of stunted fir trees which stretched half way down the cliff side.
Helen Thurwell looked across at it indifferently.
"I can tell you his name, and that is all," she answered. "He calls himself Mr. Brown--Mr. Bernard Brown."
"Well, who is he? What does he do?"
Helen shook her head.
"Really, I haven't the least idea," she declared. "I do not even know what he is like. He has been there for two months, and we haven't seen him yet. Papa called upon him, but he was out. He has not returned the call! He--oh, bother Mr. Brown, here they come! I'm so glad!"
They both got up and looked. Rounding the corner of a long plantation, about half a mile away, were several men in broken line, with their guns under their arms; and a little way behind came three keepers, carrying bags.
Rachel Kynaston looked at them fixedly.
"One, two, three, four, five," she counted. "One short. I don't see Geoffrey."
Helen moved to her side, and
Extremely wordy romance with a backdrop of murder and suspicion.
I skipped whole swaths of this story, which has way way too much description and narration of emotional inner state for my tastes.
Can't recommend it. His other stuff is much better.
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