The Stowmarket Mystery

The Stowmarket Mystery, by
Louis Tracy

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Title: The Stowmarket Mystery Or, A Legacy of Hate
Author: Louis Tracy
Release Date: February 1, 2005 [EBook #14853]
Language: english
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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THE STOWMARKET MYSTERY
Or A Legacy of Hate

By LOUIS TRACY
AUTHOR OF
"Wings of the Morning," "The Final War," "An American Emperor,"
"Disappearance of Lady Delia," etc., etc.
1904

CONTENTS
I. "THE STOWMARKET MYSTERY" II. DAVID HUME'S STORY
III. THE DREAM IV. THROUGH THE LIBRARY WINDOW V.
FROM BEHIND THE HEDGE VI. AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE VII.
HUSBAND AND WIFE VIII. REVELATIONS IX. THE
KO-KATANA X. THE BLACK MUSEUM XI. MR. "OKASAKI" XII.
WHAT THE STATIONMASTER SAW XIII. TWO WOMEN XIV.
MARGARET SPEAKS OUT XV. AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR XVI.
THE COUSINS XVII. "CHERCHEZ LA FEMME" XVIII. FURTHER
COMPLICATIONS XIX. THE THIRD MAN APPEARS XX. THE
TRAIL XXI. CONCERNING CHICKENS, AND MOTIVES XXII.
THE SECOND ATTACK XXIII. MARGARET'S SECRET XXIV.
THE MEETING XXV. WHERE DID MARGARET GO? XXVI. MR.
OOMA XXVII. HOLDEN'S STORY XXVIII. MR. AND MRS. JIRO
XXIX. MARGARET'S SECRET XXX. HUSBAND AND WIFE
XXXI. TO BEECHCROFT XXXII. THE FIGHT XXXIII. THE LAST
NOTE IN BRETT'S DIARY

A LEGACY OF HATE
CHAPTER I
"THE STOWMARKET MYSTERY"
"Mr. David Hume."

Reginald Brett, barrister-detective, twisted round in his easy-chair to
permit the light to fall clearly on the card handed to him by his
man-servant.
"What does Mr. David Hume look like, Smith?" he asked.
"A gentleman, sir."
Well-trained servants never make a mistake when they give such a
description of a visitor. Brett was satisfied.
"Produce him."
Then he examined the card.
"It is odd," he thought. "Mr. David Hume gives no address, and writes
his own cards. I like his signature, too. Now, I wonder--"
The door was thrown open. A tall, well-proportioned young man
entered. He was soberly attired in blue serge. His face and hands bore
the impress of travel and exposure. His expression was pleasing and
attractive. In repose his features were regular, and marked with lines of
thought. A short, well-trimmed beard, of the type affected by some
naval men, gave him a somewhat unusual appearance. Otherwise he
carried himself like a British cavalry officer in mufti.
He advanced into the room and bowed easily. Brett, who had risen,
instantly felt that his visitor was one of those people who erect invisible
barriers between themselves and strangers.
"My errand will occupy some time, perhaps half an hour, to permit of
full explanation," said Mr. Hume. "May I ask--"
"I am completely at your service. Take that chair. You will find it
comfortable. Do you smoke? Yes. Well, try those cigarettes. They are
better than they look."
Mr. Hume seemed to be gratified by this cordial reception. He seated
himself as requested, in the best light obtainable in a north-side

Victoria Street flat, and picked up the box of cigarettes.
"Turkish," he announced.
"Yes."
"Grown on a slope near Salonica."
"Indeed? You interest me."
"Oh, I know them well. I was there two months ago. I suppose you got
these as a present from Yildiz Kiosk?"
"Mr. Hume, you asked for half an hour, Make it an hour. You have
touched upon a subject dear to my heart."
"They are the best cigarettes in the world. No one can buy them. They
are made for the exclusive use of the Sultan's household. To attempt to
export them means the bastinado and banishment, at the least. I do not
credit you with employing agents on such terms, so I assume an
Imperial gift."
The barrister had been looking intently at the other man during this
short colloquy. Suddenly his eyes sparkled. He struck a match and held
it to his visitor, with the words:
"You are quite right, Mr. David Hume-Frazer."
The person thus addressed neither started, nor sprang to his feet, nor
gasped in amazement He took the match, lit a cigarette, and said:
"So you know me?"
"Yes."
"It is strange. I have never previously met you to my knowledge. Am I
still a celebrity?"
"To me--yes."

"A sort of distinguished criminal, eh?"
"No man could be such a judge of tobacco and remain commonplace."
"'Pon my honour, Mr. Brett, I think you deserve your reputation. For
the first time during eighteen months I feel hopeful. Do you know, I
passed dozens of acquaintances in