Afternoon Tea Mysteries, Volume Two: A Collection of Cozy Mysteries (Four thrilling novels in one volume!) Read online

  Afternoon Tea Mysteries, Volume Two: A Collection of Cozy Mysteries

  An ignacio hills press (TM) printing. E-book layout, editing, formatting, cover art,

  and design by Travis Scott Greer. Copyright 2011.

  Note from publisher: Original erratic punctuation and unusual spellings have been retained for this collection.

  Table of Contents

  Cozy Mystery One: The Sword of Damocles

  This mystery written by acclaimed mystery author, Anna Katharine Green, features dishonest bankers, theft, a wayward woman and a number of young people who cannot marry until their reputations are shown to be spotless. The brilliant but reclusive detective, Ebenezer Gryce (featured in “An Ebenezer Gryce Mysteries Collection”) also makes a brief appearance.

  Cozy Mystery Two: Raspberry Jam

  One of Carolyn Wells’ best mystery novels featuring Fleming Stone. Its main puzzle is linked to Wells’ earliest such stories: explaining how outsiders might penetrate a locked domicile - here done right. This novel also has three good subplots about explaining purported psychic phenomena. The writing is lively throughout.

  Cozy Mystery Three: Mystery of the Gold Bag

  This Carolyn Wells’ mystery novel features a murdered millionaire, a missing will, a private secretary and a beautiful young woman who falls under suspicion. Can she be guilty? Will the modest and relatively inexperienced young detective fall for her?

  Cozy Mystery Four: The Ashiel Mystery

  A Scottish mystery written Mrs. Charles Bryce [Marion Bryce]. As the adopted daughter of Sir Charles Byrne, young Pauline suffers when he marries again. Then she gets a chance to meet her natural father. This is followed by murders, missing wills and deception in a Scottish castle. It’s enough to make a girl faint. Fortunately the detective, Mr. Gimblet is on hand to solve the mystery.

  Anna Katharine Green

  The Sword of Damocles

  Anna Katharine Green

  [Mrs Charles Rohlfs]

  [1846–1935]

  The Sword of Damocles

  1881

  “When all else fails love saves”

  TO

  MY FATHER

  I DEDICATE THIS BOOK

  AS EXPRESSING

  SOME OF THE PRINCIPLES

  OF

  JUSTICE AND MERCY

  WHICH,

  BY PRECEPT AND EXAMPLE,

  HE HAS INSTILLED

  INTO MY BREAST

  FROM EARLY CHILDHOOD.

  New York, April, 1881,

  Table of Contents

  The Sword of Damocles

  BOOK I.

  TWO MEN.

  I. A WANDERER.

  II. A DISCUSSION.

  III. A MYSTERIOUS SUMMONS.

  IV. SEARCHINGS.

  V. THE RUBICON.

  VI. A HAND CLASP.

  VII. MRS. SYLVESTER.

  VIII. SHADOWS OF THE PAST.

  IX. PAULA.

  X. THE BARRED DOOR.

  XI. MISS STUYVESANT.

  XII. MISS BELINDA MAKES CONDITIONS.

  XIII. THE END OF MY LADY’S PICTURE.

  BOOK II.

  LIFE AND DEATH.

  XIV. MISS BELINDA HAS A QUESTION TO DECIDE.

  XV. AN ADVENTURE—OR SOMETHING MORE.

  XVI. THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES.

  XVII. GRAVE AND GAY.

  XVIII. IN THE NIGHT WATCHES.

  XIX. A DAY AT THE BANK.

  XX. THE DREGS IN THE CUP.

  XXI. DEPARTURE.

  XXII. HOPGOOD.

  BOOK III.

  THE JAPHA MYSTERY.

  XXIII. THE POEM.

  XXIV. THE JAPHA MANSION.

  XXV. JACQUELINE.

  XXVI. A MAN’S JUSTICE AND A WOMAN’S MERCY.

  XXVII. THE LONE WATCHER.

  XXVIII. SUNSHINE ON THE HILLS.

  XXIX. MIST IN THE VALLEY.

  BOOK IV.

  FROM A TO Z.

  XXX. MISS BELINDA PRESENTS MR. SYLVESTER WITH A CHRISTMAS GIFT.

  XXXI. A QUESTION.

  XXXII. FULL TIDE.

  XXXIII. TWO LETTERS.

  XXXIV. PAULA MAKES HER CHOICE.

  XXXV. THE FALLING OF THE SWORD.

  XXXVI. MORNING.

  XXXVII. THE OPINION OF A CERTAIN NOTED DETECTIVE.

  XXXVIII. BLUE-BEARD’S CHAMBER.

  XXXIX. FROM A. TO Z.

  XL. HALF-PAST SEVEN.

  BOOK V.

  WOMAN’S LOVE.

  XLI. THE WORK OF AN HOUR.

  XLII. PAULA RELATES A STORY SHE HAS HEARD.

  XLIII. DETERMINATION.

  XLIV. IN MR. STUYVESANT’S PARLOR.

  XLV. “THE HOUR OF SIX IS SACRED.”

  XLVI. THE MAN CUMMINS.

  The Sword of Damocles

  Damocles, one of the courtiers of Dionysius, was perpetually extolling with rapture that tyrant’s treasures, grandeur, the number of his troops, the extent of his dominions, the magnificence of his palaces, and the universal abundance of all good things and enjoyments in his possession; always repeating, that never man was happier than Dionysius. “Since you are of that opinion,” said the tyrant to him one day, “will you taste and make proof of my felicity in person?” The offer was accepted with joy; Damocles was placed upon a golden couch, covered with carpets richly embroidered. The side-boards were loaded with vessels of gold and silver. The most beautiful slaves in the most splendid habits stood around, ready to serve him at the slightest signal. The most exquisite essences and perfumes had not been spared. The table was spread with proportionate magnificence. Damocles was all joy, and looked upon himself as the happiest man in the world; when unfortunately casting up his eyes, he beheld over his head the point of a sword, which hung from the roof only by a single horse-hair.

  —ROLLIN.

  BOOK I.

  TWO MEN.

  I. A WANDERER.

  “There’s no such word.”

  —BULWER.

  A wind was blowing through the city. Not a gentle and balmy zephyr, stirring the locks on gentle ladies’ foreheads and rustling the curtains in elegant boudoirs, but a chill and bitter gale that rushed with a swoop through narrow alleys and forsaken courtyards, biting the cheeks of the few solitary wanderers that still lingered abroad in the darkened streets.

  In front of a cathedral that reared its lofty steeple in the midst of the squalid houses and worse than squalid saloons of one of the dreariest portions of the East Side, stood the form of a woman. She had paused in her rush down the narrow street to listen to the music, perhaps, or to catch a glimpse of the light that now and then burst from the widely swinging doors as they opened and shut upon soma tardy worshipper.

  She was tall and fearful looking; her face, when the light struck it, was seared and desperate; gloom and desolation were written on all the lines of her rigid but wasted form, and when she shuddered under the gale, it was with that force and abandon to which passion lends its aid, and in which the soul proclaims its doom.

  Suddenly the doors before her swung wide and the preacher’s voice was heard: “Love God and you will love your fellow-men. Love your fellow-men and you best show your love to God.”

  She heard, started, and the charm was broken. “Love!” she echoed with a horrible laugh; “there is no love in heaven or on earth!”

  And she swept by, and the winds followed and the darkness swallowed her up like a gulf.

  II. A DISCUSSION.


  “Young men think old men fools, and old men know young men to be so.”

  —RAY’S PROVERBS.

  “And you are actually in earnest?”

  “I am.”

  The first speaker, a fine-looking gentleman of some forty years of age, drummed with his fingers on the table before him and eyed the face of the young man who had repeated this assent so emphatically, with a certain close scrutiny indicative of surprise.

  “It is an unlooked-for move for you to make,” he remarked at length. “Your success as a pianist has been so decided, I confess I do not understand why you should desire to abandon a profession that in five years’ time has procured you both competence and a very enviable reputation—for the doubtful prospects of Wall Street, too!” he added with a deep and thoughtful frown that gave still further impressiveness to his strongly marked features.

  The young man with a sweep of his eye over the luxurious apartment in which they sat, shrugged his shoulders with that fine and nonchalant grace which was one of his chief characteristics.

  “With such a pilot as yourself, I ought to be able to steer clear of the shoals,” said he, a frank smile illumining a face that was rather interesting than handsome.

  The elder gentleman did not return the smile. Instead of that he remained gazing at the ample coal-fire that burned in the grate before him with a look that to the young musician was simply inexplicable. “You see the ship in haven,” he murmured at last; “but do not consider what storms it has weathered or what perils escaped. It is a voyage I would encourage no son of mine to undertake.”

  “Yet you are not the man to shrink from danger or to hesitate in a course you had marked out for yourself, because of the struggles involved or the difficulties it presented!” the young man exclaimed almost involuntarily as his glance lingered with a certain sort of fascination on the powerful brow and steady if somewhat melancholy eye of his companion.

  “No; but danger and difficulty should not be sought, only subdued when encountered. If you were driven into this path, I should say, ‘God pity you!’ and hold you out my hand to steady you along its precipices and above its sudden quicksands. But you are not driven to it. Your profession offers you the means of an ample livelihood while your good heart and fair talents insure you ultimate and honorable success, both in the social and artistic world. For a man of twenty-five such prospects are not common and he must be difficult to please not to be satisfied with them.”

  “Yes,” said the other rising with a fitful movement but instantly sitting again; “I have nothing to complain of as the world goes, only—Sir,” he exclaimed with a sudden determination that lent a force to his features they had hitherto lacked, “you speak of being driven into a certain course; what do you mean by that?”

  “I mean,” returned the other; “forced by circumstances to enter a line of business to which many others, if not all others are preferable.”

  “You speak strongly, speculation evidently has none of your sympathy, notwithstanding the favorable results which have accrued to you from it. But excuse me, by circumstances you mean poverty, I suppose, and the lack of every other opening to wealth and position. You would not consider the desire to make a large fortune in a short space of time a circumstance of a sufficiently dtterruirring nature to reconcile you to my entering Wall Street speculation?”

  The elder gentleman rose, not as the other had done with a restless impulse quickly subsiding at the first excuse, but forcibly and with a feverish impatience that to appearance was somewhat out of proportion to the occasion. “A large fortune in a short space of time!” he reiterated, pausing where he had risen with an eagle glance at his companion and a ringing tone in his voice that bespoke a deep but hitherto suppressed agitation. “It is the alluring inscription above the pitfall into which many a noble youth has fallen; the battle-cry to a struggle that has led many a strong man the way of ruin; the guide-post to a life whose feverish days and sleepless nights offer but poor compensation for the sudden splendors and as sudden reverses attached to it. I had rather you had accounted for this sudden freak of yours by the strongest aspiration after power than by this cry of the merely mercenary man who in his desire to enjoy wealth, prefers to win it by a stroke of luck rather than conquer it by a life of endeavor.” He stopped. “I am aware that this tirade against the ladder by which I myself have risen so rapidly, must strike you as in ill-taste. But Bertram, I am interested in your welfare and am willing to incur some slight charge of inconsistency in order to insure it,” and here he turned upon his companion with that expression of extreme gentleness which lent such a peculiar charm to his countenance and explained perhaps the almost unlimited power he held over the hearts and minds of those who came within the circle of his influence.

  You are very good, sir,” murmured his young friend, who to explain, matters at once was in reality the nephew of this Wall Street magnate, though from the fact of his having taken another name on entering the musical profession, was not generally known as such. “No one, not even my father himself, could have been more considerate and kind; but I do not think you understand me, or rather I should say I do not think I have made myself perfectly intelligible to you. It is not for the sake of wealth itself or the éclat attending its possession that I desire an immediate fortune, but that by means of it I may attain another object dearer than wealth, and more precious than my career.”

  The elder gentleman turned quickly, evidently much surprised, and cast a sudden inquiring glance at his nephew, who blushed with a modest ingenuousness pleasing to see in one so well accustomed to the critical gaze of his fellow-men.

  “Yes,” said he, as if in answer to that look, “I am in love.”

  A deep silence for a moment pervaded the apartment, a sombre silence almost startling to young Mandeville, who had expected some audible expression to follow this announcement if only the good-natured “Pooh! pooh!” of the matured man of the world in the presence of ardent youthful enthusiasm. What could it mean? Looking up he encountered his uncle’s eye fixed upon him with the last expression he could have anticipated seeing there, namely that of actual and unmistakable alarm.

  “You are displeased,” Mandeville exclaimed. “You have thought me proof against such a passion, or perhaps you do not believe in the passion itself!” Then with a sudden remembrance of the notable if somewhat indolent loveliness of his uncle’s wife, blushed again at his unusual want of tact, while his eye with an involuntary impulse sought the large panel at their right where, in the full bloom of her first youth, the lady of the house smiled upon all beholders.

  “I do not believe in that passion influencing a man’s career,” his uncle replied with no apparent attention to the other’s embarrassment. “A woman needs be possessed of uncommon excellences to justify a man in leaving a path where success is certain, for one where it is not only doubtful but if attained must bring many a regret and heart-ache in its train. Beauty is not sufficient,” he went on with sterner and sterner significance, “though it were of an angelic order. There must be worth.” And here his mind’s eye if not that of his bodily sense, certainly followed the glance of his companion.

  “I believe there is worth,” the young man replied; “certainly, it is not her beauty that charms me. I do not even know if she is beautiful,” he continued.

  “And you believe you love!” the elder exclaimed after another short pause

  There was so much of bitterness in the tone in which this was uttered, that Mandeville forgot its incredulity. “I think I must,” returned he with a certain masculine naïveté not out of keeping with his general style of face and manner, “else I should not be here. Three weeks ago I was satisfied with my profession, if not enthusiastic over it; to-day I ask nothing but to be allowed to enter upon some business that in three years’ time at least will place me where I can be the fit mate of any woman in this land, that is not worth her millions.”

  “The woman for whom you have conceived this violent attachment i
s, then, above you in social position?

  “Yes, sir, or so considered, which amounts to the same thing, as far as I am concerned.”

  “Bertram, I have lived longer than you and have seen much of both social and domestic life, and I tell you no woman is worth such a sacrifice on the part of a man as you propose. No woman of to-day, I should say; our mothers were different. The very fact that this young lady of whom you speak, obliges you to change your whole course of life order to obtain her, ought to be sufficient to prove to you—” He stopped suddenly, arrested by the young man’s lifted hand. “She does not oblige you, then?’”

  “Not on her own account, sir. This lily,”—lifting a vase of blossoms at his elbow, “could not be more innocent of the necessities that govern the social circle it adorns, than the pure, single-minded girl to whom I have dedicated what is best and noblest in my manhood. It is her father—”

  “Ah, her father!”

  “Yes, sir,” the young man pursued, more and more astonished at the other’s tone. “He is a man who has a right to expect both wealth and position in a son-in-law. But I see I shall have to tell you my story, sir. It is an uncommon one and I never meant that it should pass my lips, but if by its relation I can win your sympathy for a pure and noble passion, I shall consider the sacred seal of secrecy broken in a good cause. But,” said he, seeing his uncle cast a short and uneasy glance at the door, “perhaps I am interrupting you. You expect some one!”

  “No,” said his uncle, “my wife is at church; I am ready to listen.”

  The young man gave a hurried sigh, cast one look at His companion’s immovable face, as it to assure himself that the narrative was necessary, then leaned back and in a steady business-like tone that softened, however, as he proceeded, began to relate as follows: