Never Trust a Lady
Never Trust a Lady
Victor Canning
Everyone thought that Horace Denby was a good, honest citizen. He was about fifty years old and unmarried, and he lived with a housekeeper who worried over his health. In fact he was unusually very well and happy, except for attacks of hay fever in summer. He made locks and was successful enough at his business to have two helpers. Yes, Horace Denby was good and respectable-but not completely honest.
Fifteen years ago, Horace had served his first and only sentence in prison for stealing jewels. The priest at the prison had liked Horace-everyone did-and had tried to help him to live an honest life. But Horace did not want to become honest; he only wanted to make sure that his dishonesty never got him into trouble again.
Horace hated prison. He hated the food, the lack of exercise, and the ugly, worn-out books in the prison library. Horace loved rear expensive books.
So he robbed a safe every year. Each year he planned carefully just what he would do, stole enough to last for twelve months, and secretly bought the books he loved through an agent.
Now walking in the bright July sunshine, he felt sure that this year’s robbery was going to be as successful as all the others. For two weeks he had been studying the house at Shotover Grange, looking at its rooms, its electric wiring, its paths, and its garden. This afternoon the two servants remained in the Grange while the family was in London, had gone to the movies. Horace saw them go, and he felt happy spite of a little tickle of hay fever in his nose. He came out from behind the garden wall, his tools carefully packed in a bag on back.
There were about fifteen thousand pounds’ worth of jewels in the Grange safe. If he sold them one by one he expected to get at least five thousand, enough to make him happy for another year. There were three very interesting books coming up for sell in the autumn. Now he would get the money he needed to buy them.
He had seen the housekeeper hang
Victor Canning
Everyone thought that Horace Denby was a good, honest citizen. He was about fifty years old and unmarried, and he lived with a housekeeper who worried over his health. In fact he was unusually very well and happy, except for attacks of hay fever in summer. He made locks and was successful enough at his business to have two helpers. Yes, Horace Denby was good and respectable-but not completely honest.
Fifteen years ago, Horace had served his first and only sentence in prison for stealing jewels. The priest at the prison had liked Horace-everyone did-and had tried to help him to live an honest life. But Horace did not want to become honest; he only wanted to make sure that his dishonesty never got him into trouble again.
Horace hated prison. He hated the food, the lack of exercise, and the ugly, worn-out books in the prison library. Horace loved rear expensive books.
So he robbed a safe every year. Each year he planned carefully just what he would do, stole enough to last for twelve months, and secretly bought the books he loved through an agent.
Now walking in the bright July sunshine, he felt sure that this year’s robbery was going to be as successful as all the others. For two weeks he had been studying the house at Shotover Grange, looking at its rooms, its electric wiring, its paths, and its garden. This afternoon the two servants remained in the Grange while the family was in London, had gone to the movies. Horace saw them go, and he felt happy spite of a little tickle of hay fever in his nose. He came out from behind the garden wall, his tools carefully packed in a bag on back.
There were about fifteen thousand pounds’ worth of jewels in the Grange safe. If he sold them one by one he expected to get at least five thousand, enough to make him happy for another year. There were three very interesting books coming up for sell in the autumn. Now he would get the money he needed to buy them.
He had seen the housekeeper hang