The New Tenant   By: Edward Phillips Oppenheim (1866-1946)

BY E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM

AUTHOR OF "THE YELLOW HOUSE," "TO WIN THE LOVE HE SOUGHT," "A DAUGHTER OF ASTREA," ETC.

DONALD W. NEWTON 156 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK

COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY C. H. DOSCHER & CO.

THE TROW PRESS, NEW YORK

CONTENTS

I. FALCON'S NEST

II. THE MURDER NEAR THE FALCON'S NEST

III. MR. BERNARD BROWN

IV. AN EVIL END TO AN EVIL LIFE

V. THE INNER ROOM AT THE FALCON'S NEST

VI. A TERRIBLE ENEMY

VII. HELEN THURWELL'S SUSPICIONS

VIII. DID YOU KILL SIR GEOFFREY KYNASTON?

IX. MR. BROWN DINES AT THE COURT

X. THE TRAGEDY OF RACHEL KYNASTON

XI. LEVY & SON, PRIVATE AGENTS

XII. A JEWEL OF A SON

XIII. A STRANGE MEETING

XIV. HELEN THURWELL ASKS A DIRECT QUESTION

XV. A LITERARY CELEBRITY

XVI. A SNUB FOR A BARONET

XVII. BERNARD MADDISON AND HELEN THURWELL

XVIII. A CHEQUE FOR £1,000

XIX. AN UNPLEASANT DISCOVERY FOR BERNARD BROWN

XX. GOD! THAT I MAY DIE!

XXI. SIR ALLAN BEAUMERVILLE HAS A CALLER

XXII. "GOD FORBID IT!"

XXIII. LOVERS

XXIV. A WOMAN'S LOVE

XXV. MR. LEVY, JUNIOR, GOES ON THE CONTINENT

XXVI. HELEN DECIDES TO GO HOME

XXVII. MR. THURWELL MAKES SOME INQUIRIES

XXVIII. SIR ALLAN BEAUMERVILLE VISITS THE COURT

XXIX. THE SCENE CHANGES

XXX. BENJAMIN LEVY RUNS HIS QUARRY TO EARTH

XXXI. BENJAMIN LEVY WRITES HOME

XXXII. A STRANGE TRIO OF PASSENGERS

XXXIII. VISITORS FOR MR. BERNARD MADDISON

XXXIV. ARRESTED

XXXV. COMMITTED FOR TRIAL

XXXVI. MR. LEVY PROMISES TO DO HIS BEST

XXXVII. BERNARD A PRISONER

XXXVIII. "THERE IS MY HAND. DARE YOU TAKE IT?"

XXXIX. MR. BENJAMIN LEVY IS BUSY

XL. A STRANGE BIRTHDAY PARTY

XLI. INNOCENT

XLII. AT LAST

THE NEW TENANT

CHAPTER I

FALCON'S NEST

Thurwell Court, by Thurwell on the Sea, lay bathed in the quiet freshness of an early morning. The dewdrops were still sparkling upon the terraced lawns like little globules of flashing silver, and the tumult of noisy songsters from the thick shrubberies alone broke the sweet silence. The peacocks strutting about the grey stone balcony and perched upon the worn balustrade were in deshabille, not being accustomed to display their splendors to an empty paradise, and the few fat blackbirds who were hopping about on the lawn did so in a desultory manner, as though they were only half awake and had turned out under protest. Stillness reigned everywhere, but it was the sweet hush of slowly awakening day rather than the drowsy, languorous quiet of exhausted afternoon. With one's eyes shut one could tell that the pulse of day was only just beginning to beat. The pure atmosphere was buoyant with the vigorous promise of morning, and gently laden with the mingled perfumes of slowly opening flowers. There was life in the breathless air.

The sunlight was everywhere. In the distance it lay upon the dark hillside, played upon the deep yellow gorse and purple heather of the moorland, and, further away still, flashed upon a long silver streak of the German Ocean. In the old fashioned gardens of the court it shone upon luscious peaches hanging on the time mellowed red brick walls; lit up the face and gleamed upon the hands of the stable clock, and warmed the ancient heart of the stooping, grey haired old gardener's help who, with blinking eyes and hands tucked in his trousers pockets, was smoking a matutinal pipe, seated on the wheelbarrow outside the tool shed.