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Detective Story, July 2, 1927

THE FOUR JUST MEN

By Edgar Wallace
Author of "The Squealer," etc.

AS The Megaphone once said, in its most pessimistic and wondering mood, recording rather than condemning the strangeness of the time:

Even The Four Just Men have become a respectable institution. Not more than fifteen years ago we spoke of them as "a criminal organization"; rewards were offered for their arrest. Today you may turn into Curzon Street and find a silver triangle affixed to the sedate door which marks their professional headquarters. The hunted and reviled have become a most exclusive detective agency. We can only hope that their somewhat drastic methods of other times have been considerably modified.

It is sometimes a dangerous thing to watch a possible watcher.

"What is Mr. Lewis Lethersohn afraid of?" asked Manfred, as he cracked an egg at breakfast. His handsome, clean-shaven face was tanned a teak-brown, for he was newly back from the sun and snows of Switzerland.

Leon Gonsalez sat opposite, absorbed in a newspaper; at the end of the table was Raymond Poiccart, heavy-featured and saturnine. Other pens than mine have described his qualities and his passion for growing vegetables.

He raised his eyes to Gonsalez.

"Is he the gentleman who has had this house watched for the past month?" he asked.

A smile quivered on the delicate lips of Leon as he folded the newspaper neatly.

"He is the gentleman. I am interviewing him this morning," he said. "In the meantime the sleuth hounds have been withdrawn; they were employed by the Ottis Detective Agency."

"If he is watching us he has a bad conscience," said Poiccart, nodding slowly. "I shall be interested to hear all about this."

Mr. Lewis Lethersohn lived in Lower Berkeley Street—a very large and expensive house. The footman who opened the door to Leon was arrayed in a uniform common enough in musical comedy but rather out of the picture in Lower Berkeley Street. Mulberry and gold and knee breeches! Leon gazed at him with awe.

"Mr. Lethersohn will see you in the library," said the servant; he seemed, thought Leon, rather self-conscious of his own magnificence.

A gorgeous house this, with costly furnishings and lavish decorations. As he mounted the wide stairs he had a glimpse of a beautiful woman passing across the landing. One disdainful glance she threw in his direction and passed, leaving be...

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