THE GLOVED HAND

CONTENTS


CHAPTER

I THE FALLING STAR
II A STRANGE NEIGHBOUR
III THE DRAMA IN THE GARDEN
IV ENTER FREDDIE SWAIN
V A CALL FOR HELP
VI THE SCREAM IN THE NIGHT
VII THE TRAGEDY
VIII A FRESH ENIGMA
IX FIRST STEPS
X THE WHITE PRIEST OF SIVA
XI SWAIN'S STORY
XII GUESSES AT THE RIDDLE
XIII FRANCISCO SILVA
XIV THE FINGER-PRINTS
XV THE CHAIN TIGHTENS
XVI MISS VAUGHAN'S STORY
XVII THE VERDICT
XVIII BUILDING A THEORY
XIX THE YOGI CONQUERS
XX CHECKMATE!
XXI THE VISION IN THE CRYSTAL
XXII THE SUMMONS
XXIII DEADLY PERIL
XXIV KISMET!
XXV THE BLOOD-STAINED GLOVE
XXVI THE MYSTERY CLEARS
XXVII THE END OF THE CASE




ILLUSTRATIONS


SPARKS FELL UPON THE SHOULDERS OF THE TWO WHITE FIGURES (page 9)

"I'M LAWYER ENOUGH TO KNOW," HE SAID, "THAT A QUESTION LIKE THAT IS
NOT PERMISSIBLE"

"OH, MASTER RECEIVE ME!"

"I KNEW THAT I WAS LOST"




CHAPTER I

THE FALLING STAR


I was genuinely tired when I got back to the office, that Wednesday
afternoon, for it had been a trying day--the last of the series of
trying days which had marked the progress of the Minturn case; and my
feeling of depression was increased by the fact that our victory had
not been nearly so complete as I had hoped it would be. Besides, there
was the heat; always, during the past ten days, there had been the
heat, unprecedented for June, with the thermometer climbing higher and
higher and breaking a new record every day.

As I threw off coat and hat and dropped into the chair before my desk,
I could see the heat-waves quivering up past the open windows from the
fiery street below. I turned away and closed my eyes, and tried to
evoke a vision of white surf falling upon the beach, of tall trees
swaying in the breeze, of a brook dropping gently between green banks.

"Fountains that frisk and sprinkle
The moss they overspill;
Pools that the breezes crinkle,"...

and then I stopped, for the door had opened. I unclosed my eyes to
see the office-boy gazing at me in astonishment. He was a well-trained
boy, and recovered himself in an instant.

"Your mail, sir," he said, laid it at my elbow, and went out.

I turned to the letters with an interest the reverse of lively. The
words of Henley's ballade were still running through my head--

"Vale-lily and periwinkle;
Wet stone-crop on the sill;
The look of leaves a-twinkle
With windlets,"...

Again I stopped, for again the door opened, and again the office-boy
appeared.