Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: Ill The Sybarite WE found the Novella Beauty Parlour on the top floor of an office-building just off Fifth Avenue on a side street not far from Forty-second Street. A special elevator, elaborately fitted up, wafted us up with express speed. As the door opened we saw a vista of dull-green lattices, little gateways hung with roses, windows of diamond-paned glass set in white wood, rooms with little white enamelled manicure-tables and chairs, amber lights glowing with soft incandescence in deep bowers of fireproof tissue flowers. There was a delightful warmth about the place, and the seductive scents and delicate odours betokened the haunt of the twentieth-century Sybarite. Both O'Connor and Leslie, strangely out of place in the enervating luxury of the now deserted beauty- parlour, were still waiting for Kennedy with a grim determination. "A most peculiar thing," whispered O'Connor, dashing forward the moment the elevator door opened. fWe can't seem to find a single cause for her death. The people up here say it was a suicide, but I never accept the theory of suicide unless there are undoubted proofs. So far there have been none in this case. There was no reason for it." Seated in one of the large easy-chairs of the reception-room, in a corner with two of O'Connor's men standing watchfully near, was a man who was the embodiment of all that was nervous. He was alternately wringing his hands and rumpling his hair. Beside him was a middle-sized, middle-aged lady in a most amazing state of preservation, who evidently presided over the cosmetic mysteries beyond the male ken. She was so perfectly groomed that she looked as though her clothes were a mould into which she had literally been poured. "Professor and Madame Millefleur—otherwise Miller,"—whispered O'Connor, not...
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Reeve was a Princeton graduate and attended New York Law school, then worked for a time as a journalist until the great success of his Craig Kennedy stories allowed him to devote full time to writing. He lived most of his professional life in the Long Island Sound area, then moved to Trenton, New Jersey in later life near his alma mater.
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