Mme. Storey Investigation III and IV


Our female Sherlock Holmes takes on two new cases (III and IV) and with her unique ability and persistence, once again solves the mystery coming up with completely unexpected outcomes.


She has a very special way of working.

She does not accept anything that she cannot prove to herself. 

Would you like to be able to know her in your present life?

There is not a case that she is not capable of resolving using her talent and methodology!

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Smoke in the Bank

A Hard Nut to Crack

The Smoke Bandit Continue

At the Arts Club

The Interview with Mr. Barron

She did nothing ?

Six of the Hardest Boiled Specimens

A New Plan

Awakened by a Noise

The smoke bandit case was not closed


A tall gentleman

The Famous Bessie Jewett Starr

A Suicide ?

The county prosecutor of Middlesex

Miss Jewett, the sister

The Key is on the Inside

And… if They were Telling the Truth

Back to the Castle


The Famous Bessie Jewett Starr

During the afternoon of the same day, the door of my office was rudely pushed open, and a monumental female strode in. I knew at a glance it could be no other than the famous Bessie Jewett Starr. Monumental! I ought rather to have written mountainous!

A tall woman and fat beyond all credence. Her fat was accentuated by the harness she wore which thrust it out at you, so to speak. And all this was swathed in yards and yards of mauve chiffon which made her look even bigger. Her face was puffy and, I suspect, scarlet in its natural state.

Coats of whitewash had reduced it to a strange violet hue. Perhaps that was why she wore mauve. She was dressed to represent thirty years old. A simple-minded person might have been deceived. You could see that she had once been a gloriously beautiful woman. That made the ruin more tragic.

She demanded to see Mme. Storey. Her arrogant glance bade me to fall down and grovel at her feet.

I did not.

"If you will wait a moment..." I began.

"I am Mrs. Bessie Jewett Starr; I am not accustomed to be kept waiting," she said, and thrusting me out of her path (she was several times my size) she opened the door of Mme. Storey's room.

I was not much put about, for I knew she'd meet her match in there. I followed to see the fun.

Giannino fled to one of the picture frames where he sat squeaking with indignation.

Mme. Storey was writing at her table. She looked up calmly.

"Ah, Mrs. Starr," she said at once.

"You know me!" exclaimed the fat woman, somewhat taken aback.

"How could I fail to do so?" said Mme. Storey sweetly. "Won't you sit down?"

Mrs. Starr sat on the edge of a Florentine chair, which creaked alarmingly. I saw a lightning glance of anxiety cross Mme. Storey's eyes—not for the woman, but for the chair.

"You'll find the upholstered chair more comfortable," she said politely.

Mrs. Starr merely glared at her and at me, and settled herself more firmly where she was.

"A cigarette?" asked Mme. Storey.

"I don't use them," snapped Mrs. Starr.

Mme. Storey helped herself from the silver box, and lighting up with a malicious deliberation, puffed a great cloud of smoke towards the ceiling. Mrs. Starr watched her, biting her lip. Her brusque entrance having fallen flat, the fat woman found herself for the moment at a loss.

Her eyes glittered painfully and hatefully at my mistress. Mme. Storey, beautiful, slender and smiling, was a ghastly reproach to the other woman. Under any circumstances Mrs. Starr would have been obliged to hate her.

Suddenly Mrs. Starr said, like the villainess in a melodrama, through her teeth:

"My husband's been here!"

"But yes!" said Mme. Storey, elevating her eyebrows. "Why not?"

"I can see that he has filled you up with his slanderous lies about me!"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," said Mme. Storey deprecatingly. "He must have drawn me a fairly true portrait of you, mustn't he? because you see, I recognized you at once."

The fat woman snorted with rage.

"What did he come for?" she demanded.

"I must plead privilege there," said Mme. Storey blandly. "A professional matter."

"Professional! Do you call this a profession? Snooping, I call it!"

Mme. Storey smiled delightedly at her cigarette.

"I know what he came for!" Mrs. Starr went on in a strident, hateful voice that made one ashamed for her.

Made one wish not to see her give herself away like that.


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