Octavus Roy Cohen

“ Hall had known Hamilton intimately for twenty years. He had known Eunice since her birth. He had watched her grow through a skinny-legged girlhood to a magnificent maturity. He had been present at the guardianship proceedings after the death of her parents, when, by the will of her father, Hamilton was made the girl’s guardian and trustee of her considerable estate.
That she instinctively disliked Hamilton he had realized, but a mere dislike does not usually lead to tragedy. ”

“ Glad that he had something definite to do, Hall made his way to the room of the chief of detectives, after first instructing O’Brien to do nothing except by his orders.
Once in the room, he telephoned to Mrs. Faber, housekeeper for the dead man, and requested that she come to police headquarters at once. Then he waited for David Carroll. Clement Hall had great faith in Carroll, but he knew that the man faced a difficult assignment, an unusual task—that of plumbing the depths of the mad impulse which must have prompted Eunice Duval to the shooting of her guardian. ”

“ Hall’s black and penetrating, Carroll’s boyishly blue and almost stony in their blankness. Hall shrugged resignedly.
“It’s a go. You’re in charge. I’ll notify the chief of police as soon as he gets back to the city—I’ve wired for him—and I’ll tell Barrett Rollins personally. Which reminds me that I’d better telephone him to come in. There’s no use to have him continue nosing about Hamilton’s home. The coroner’s probably there by this time, and I’d better go there myself. Mrs. Faber is leaving to come down here.” ”