A family celebrates Christmas and its flaws are gently exposed by the house guest Mrs. Parry. Giles is engaged to the wealthy Daisy, yet is clearly in love with the governess Anne Denham. Things come to a head when Daisy is murdered. Who would murder her? Perhaps the governess who told her she would kill her and made it clear she wanted to exchange places with her? After all the governess ran away with a mysterious man right after the murder and was not seen again. Or did someone frame the governess? Perhaps it is Mr. Morley, Daisy's guardian, who wanted her money? Or perhaps someone else? After all, Daisy was not popular in the village. Giles, bent on saving the woman he loves, and the detective Mr. Steel go to investigate. This is a detective story in the traditional sense, but it is a host of other things. It is a very strong love story, a story about class and how it influences people's choices, a story about greed, and much more.
By : Fergus Hume (1859 - 1932)
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Two old ladies sat in the corner of the drawing-room. The younger—a colonial cousin of the elder—was listening eagerly to gossip which dealt with English society in general, and Rickwell society in particular. They presumably assisted in the entertainment of the children already gathered tumultuously round the Christmas tree, provided by Mr. Morley; but Mrs. Parry's budget of scandal was too interesting to permit the relaxing of Mrs. McKail's attention.
"Ah yes," said Mrs. Parry, a hatchet-faced dame with a venomous tongue and a retentive memory, "Morley's fond of children, although he has none of his own."
"But those three pretty little girls?" said Mrs. McKail, who was fat, fair, and considerably over forty.
"Triplets," replied the other, sinking her voice. "The only case of triplets I have met with, but not his children. No, Mrs. Morley was a widow with triplets and money. Morley married her for the last, and had to take the first as part of the bargain. I don't deny but what he does his duty by the three."
Mrs. McKail's keen grey eyes wander to the fat, rosy little man who laughingly struggled amidst a bevy of children, the triplets included. "He seems fond of them," said she, nodding.
"Seems!" emphasised Mrs. Parry shrewdly. "Ha! I don't trust the man. If he were all he seems, would his wife's face wear that expression? No, don't tell me."
Mrs. Morley was a tall, lean, serious woman, dressed in sober grey. She certainly looked careworn, and appeared to participate in the festivities more as a duty than for the sake of amusement. "He is said to be a good husband," observed Mrs. McKail doubtfully. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure of nothing where men are concerned. I wouldn't trust one of them. Morley is attentive enough to his wife, and he adores the triplets—so he says; but I go by his eye. Orgy is written in that eye. It can pick out a pretty woman, my dear. Oh, his wife doesn't look sick with anxiety for nothing!"
"At any rate, he doesn't seem attentive to that pretty girl over there—the one in black with the young man."
"Girl! She's twenty-five if she's an hour. I believe she paints and puts belladonna in her eyes. I wouldn't have her for my governess. No, she's too artful, though I can't agree with you about her prettiness."
"Is she the governess?"...
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