Inspector French and the Box Office Murders. Freeman Crofts Wills
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FREEMAN WILLS CROFTS
Inspector French and the Box Office Murders
Published by COLLINS CRIME CLUB
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by Wm Collins Sons & Co. Ltd 1929
Copyright © Estate of Freeman Wills Crofts 1929
Cover design by Mike Topping © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008190705
Ebook Edition © March 2017 ISBN: 9780008190712
Version: 2017-01-23
Contents
Chapter 2: French Makes an Assignation
Chapter 4: French Makes a Start
Chapter 6: The Supreme Appeal Court
Chapter 8: The Grey Car’s Round
Chapter 9: French Makes a Second Assignation
Chapter 10: Mr Cracksman French
Chapter 11: The Happy Paterfamilias
Chapter 13: The Transport of Supplies
Chapter 14: The Property Adjoining
Chapter 15: Mr Cullimore Expounds
Chapter 17: The Shadows Loom Nearer
Chapter 18: When Greek Meets Greek
Inspector Joseph French, of the Criminal Investigation Department of New Scotland Yard, sat writing in his room in the great building on Victoria Embankment. Before him on his desk lay sheet after sheet of memorandum paper covered with his small, neat writing, and his pen travelled so steadily over the paper that an observer might have imagined that he had given up the detection of crime and taken to journalism.
He was on a commonplace job, making a précis of the life history of an extremely commonplace burglar. But though he didn’t know it, fate, weighty with the issues of life and death, was even then knocking at his door.
Its summons was prosaic enough, a ring on the telephone. As he picked up the receiver he little thought that that simple action was to be his introduction to a drama of terrible and dastardly crime, indeed one of the most terrible and dastardly crimes with which he had ever had to do.
‘That Inspector French?’ he heard. ‘Arrowsmith speaking—Arrowsmith of Lincoln’s Inn.’
A criminal lawyer with a large practice, Mr Arrowsmith was well known in the courts. He and French were on friendly terms, having had tussles over the fate of many an evil-doer.
‘Yes, Mr Arrowsmith. I’m French.’
‘I’ve