E-text prepared by David Clarke, Mary Meehan,
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
()
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER XXIV
CHAPTER XXV
CHAPTER XXVI
CHAPTER XXVII
CHAPTER XXVIII
CHAPTER XXIX
FAMOUS NOVELS BY KATHLYN RHODES
Barry Raymond drew the latchkey out of the door and entered his smallflat in Kensington just as the clock in the tiny hall chimed the hour often.
It was a wet night; and he drew off his Burberry and hung it up with asense of pleasure in being again in his cosy little eyrie at the top ofthe chilly stone steps.
Humming a tune, he crossed the diminutive hall and went into thesitting-room, where the cheerful crackle of a small wood fire gave anair of comfort to the hearth.
On the table, where his admirable man-servant had placed it, was a traybearing glasses, a siphon and a bottle of whisky; and beside the traywere the few letters which had come by the last post; while in aconspicuous place lay a telegram in its tawny envelope; and this,naturally enough, was the first thing Barry touched.
Taking it up, he tore it open decisively; and as the envelope fell tothe ground he unfolded the pink paper and read the message scrawledthereon.
"Just arrived Southampton will be with you about ten o'clock.Owen."
The paper fluttered to the floor and Barry consulted his watch hastily.
"Ten o'clock! Wh