Page 3 of The York Mystery

pointed to the husband; fortunately never to the wife. Poor thing, she died

  probably of a broken heart, but women when they love, think only of one object

  on earth?the one who is beloved.

  "To me the whole thing was clear from the very first. When I read the account of

  the murder?the knife! stabbing!?bah! Don't I know enough of English crime not to

  be certain at once that no Englishman, be he ruffian from the gutter or be he

  Duke's son, ever stabs his victim in the back. Italians, French, Spaniards do

  it, if you will, and women of most nations. An Englishman's instinct is to

  strike and not to stab. George Higgins or Lord Arthur Skelmerton would have

  knocked their victim down; the woman only would lie in wait till the enemy's

  back was turned. She knows her weakness, and she does not mean to miss.

  "Think it over. There is not one flaw in my argument, but the police never

  thought the matter out?perhaps in this case it was as well." He had gone and

  left Miss Polly Burton still staring at the photograph of a pretty,

  gentle-looking woman, with a decided, wilful curve round the mouth, and a

  strange, unaccountable look in the large pathetic eyes; and the little

  journalist felt quite thankful that in this case the murder of Charles Lavender

  the bookmaker?cowardly, wicked as it was?had remained a mystery to the police

  and the public.

 


 

  Emmuska Orczy, The York Mystery

  (Series: # )

 

 


 

 
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