Explore "The Chase of the Golden Plate" by Jacques Futrelle on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Dick Herbert lay stretched lazily on a couch in his room with hands pressed to his eyes. He had just read the Sunday newspapers announcing the mysterious return of the Randolph plate, and naturally he had a headache. Somewhere in a remote recess of his brain mental pyrotechnics were at play; a sort of intellectual pinwheel spouted senseless ideas and suggestions of senseless ideas. The late afternoon shaded off into twilight, twilight into dusk, dusk into darkness, and still he lay motionless.
After a while, from below, he heard the tinkle of a bell and Blair entered with light tread: