Mary Roberts Rinehart

“ Either the man was in love with her and had turned up that night of his own volition, or Elinor had sent for him. One was as bad as the other.
Ward did not have a chance. As he came abreast of the wall, the boy fired and he pitched forward on his face. With the re-echoing of the shot among the hills, Huff's madness died away. Murder was not his game; violent and sudden death perhaps, but never, before, a shot from behind. Had the wealth of a city been in Ward's pockets, he could not have touched it. ”

“ Boroday spread out his hands in his foreign way.
"I fear you give me grout credit. I do not deserve it."
"—Why you fellows," the chief went on resolutely, "waited to do this job until the rector, who is old and infirm, had gone away and left a husky young assistant in his place. And that isn't all I want to know."
"In any way that I can assist you—"
"What the devil do you mean," yelled the chief, "by shooting a man down and then going away and leaving the money in his pockets? it's—it's crude—it's wasteful!"
The Russian's fingers twitched in spite of him. ”

“ In the library Elinor lay face down on the floor. Old Henriette bent over her.
"My lamb, my pet," she soothed her. "He's a fine man, but there are many others. And when one is young and lovely—"
since Elinor made no response but only moaned, old Henriette rose from her knees and shuffled out of the room, but cautiously, as she passed, she took from a table drawer old Hilary's revolver and carried it under her shawl.
She was very wise, was wrinkled Henriette, and she knew the Kingston blood.
Ward came down the road rapidly. There was a faint moon. One part of his mind had ceased to work ”