Explore "The Great Skene Mystery" by Bernard Capes on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Away with wooer's gallivanting, and all the soft and sugary stuff of dreams. A sterner wind than Zephyr speeds me on my way, and lands me, hard of purpose, in the midst of London, and blows me with a crack up against Johnny's door. He is established for the time being, with his mother, in a luxurious flat in Victoria Street, and the round red-glass stove in his hall is not more glowing with a warmth of welcome than is the face with which he greets me.
"I say, Dick," he says presently, "who spoke of fairies? "