HOUSE

XII. THE RIDDLE OF THE RAINBOW PEARL

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

"Of a truth you are a charming fellow, monsieur....
What a pity you should be a police spy and upon so
hopeless a case."

Pulling their hair--rubbing their faces with a clean
handkerchief in quest of any trace of "make-up" or
disguise of any sort

Swinging the hammer, he struck at the nymph with a
force that shattered the monstrous thing to atoms

With that he stripped down the counterpane, lifted
the water-jug from its washstand and emptied
its contents over the mattresses

CLEEK, THE MASTER DETECTIVE

CHAPTER I

THE AFFAIR OF THE MAN WHO CALLED HIMSELF HAMILTON CLEEK

The thing wouldn't have happened if any other constable than Collins had
been put on point duty at Blackfriars Bridge that morning. For Collins
was young, good-looking, and knew it. Nature had gifted him with a
susceptible heart and a fond eye for the beauties of femininity. So when
he looked round and saw the woman threading her way through the maze of
vehicles at "Dead Man's Corner," with her skirt held up just enough to
show two twinkling little feet in French shoes, and over them a
graceful, willowy figure, and over that an enchanting, if rather too
highly tinted, face, with almond eyes and a fluff of shining hair under
the screen of a big Parisian hat--that did for him on the spot.

He saw at a glance that she was French--exceedingly French--and he
preferred English beauty, as a rule. But, French or English, beauty is
beauty, and here undeniably was a perfect type, so he unhesitatingly
sprang to her assistance and piloted her safely to the kerb, revelling
in her voluble thanks and tingling as she clung timidly but rather
firmly to him.

"Sair, I have to give you much gratitude," she said in a pretty, wistful
sort of way, as they stepped on to the pavement. Then she dropped her
hand from his sleeve, looked up at him, and shyly drooped her head, as
if overcome with confusion and surprise at the youth and good looks of
him. "Ah, it is nowhere in the world but Londres one finds these
delicate attentions, these splendid sergeants de ville," she added, with
a sort of sigh. "You are wonnerful, you are mos' wonnerful, you Anglais
poliss. Sair, I am a stranger; I know not ze ways of this city of
amazement, and if monsieur would so kindly direct me where to find the