The Phantom Car by Fred M. White — Read

With an hour or two to spare, before he had to catch his train back to Lincombe, Manthon turned his steps, after leaving Burlington Rooms, in the direction of the Strand, with the intention of getting a cup of tea and smoking a cigarette in the exclusive precincts of the Senior Bohemian Club. It was some time since he had last visited that free and easy institute, and he was rather looking forward to meeting an old literary friend or two. All the same, he had plenty of food for thought as he walked along in the afternoon sunshine.

From what he could gather, it did not seem to him that the murder of Everard had been premeditated. No doubt the thief had made some error of calculation after he had climbed to the sitting-room of the house in Burlington Square, which mistake had led to his presence being discovered and the rest had followed with such tragic results. Still, there the murder was, and if Manthon could do anything to bring the miscreant to justice, then he was not going to hesitate. He would go back to Lincombe presently and tell Faber all that he had discovered. There were still one or two points which he had not disclosed to Faber, and these he would hold back no longer.