Yet another thrilling story by this British writer and journalist.
hat the odor carried with it a suggestion of death; his muscles grew taut, ready to fight, to defend himself against this world or the next.
The next instant he smiled, thinking: "Nonsense! It must have been here before. Each time I came in I was smoking; the air is frosty, too."
He groped inward for the switch, turned on the light, and, without deigning to give another thought to the smell of violets, turned to the left along the main corridor, which was rectangular to the entrance-hall. Passing the drawing-room door, he entered the dining-room. Opposite the latter was the kitchen and servants' apartments. Around the other end of the main corridor were disposed three bed-rooms and a bath-room. The light he had turned on illuminated entrance and corridor alike.
In the dining-room he found the fire still burning. That was good. The coal-scuttle was not by the fireplace, but in a corner. He went to get a shovelful of coal; and as he stooped, again came to him the fragrance, thrilling, bring
About as complex as a bowl of cornflakes BUT I loved it. Set in London with A ghost who leaves the scent of violets, a damsel in distress, and a handsome, clean-cut American hero. Plenty of action and lots of misunderstandings and near disasters. Enjoy!
