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Punshon, E. R. (Ernest Robertson), 1872-1956

"The Bittermeads Mystery"

Till the small hours, very often he was accustomed
to sit up absorbed in those chess problems, the composing and
solving of which were his great passion, so that, indeed, it is
probable that under other circumstances he might have passed a
perfectly harmless and peaceful existence, known to wide circles as
an extraordinarily clever problemist and utterly unknown elsewhere.
But the Fate that is, after all, but man's own character writ large,
had decreed otherwise. And the little, fat, smiling man bending
over his travelling chess board on which he moved delicately to and
fro the tiny red and white men of carved ivory, now and again
removing a piece and laying it aside, had done as much with as
little concern to his fellow creatures from the very beginning of
his terrible career.
Outside, leaning on the gate where Deede Dawson had left him, Dunn
was deep in thought that was not always very comforting, for there
was very much in all this laid out for him to accomplish that he
did not understand and that disturbed him a good deal.
A careful, cautious "Hist!" broke in upon his thoughts, and in an
instant he stiffened to close attention, every nerve on the alert.
The sound was repeated, a faint and wary footstep sounded, and in
the darkness a form appeared and stole slowly nearer.
Dunn poised for a moment, ready for attack or retreat, and then all
at once his tense attitude relaxed.


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