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Updated: June 17, 2025
"Got you, you hound!" said Cleek through his teeth as he wrenched the man's two wrists together and snapped the other handcuff into place. "You beast of ingratitude you Judas! Kissing and betraying like any other Iscariot! And a dear old man like that! Look here, Mrs. Bawdrey; look here, Captain Travers; what do you think of a little rat like this?"
At one time, you know, Philip Bawdrey was as innocent and guileless as any of those little shavers; and yet, in after years he proved a monster of iniquity, a beast of ingratitude, and Oh, well, let it pass. He paid, as thankless children always do pay under God's good rule. I wonder what his thoughts were when his last hour came." "It did come, then?" "Yes.
Looks like a doctor's specimen, b'gad. You haven't let anybody I mean, you haven't been buying any prehistoric bones, have you, Mr. Bawdrey?" "Oh, that?" laughed the old man, turning round and seeing to what he was alluding. "Oh, that's a curiosity of quite a different sort, Mr. Rickaby. You are right in saying it looks like a doctor's specimen. It is or, rather, it was. Mrs.
Bawdrey gave a heart-wrung cry and hid her face in her hands. "You and your eternal doldrums! Here, Bawdrey, lend a hand, old chap. We can get him upstairs without the assistance of this human trombone, I know." But "this human trombone" was not minded that they should; and so it fell out that, when Lieutenant Forshay led Mrs.
Bawdrey swung in through the door and joined him, they came upon a horrifying sight.
"Let's have a look at it," said Cleek, moving nearer the light. Then, after a close examination, "I don't think it amounts to anything, after all," he added, as he laid aside the glass. "I shouldn't worry myself about it if I were you, Phil. It's just an ordinary blister, nothing more. Let's go on with the collection, Mr. Bawdrey; I'm deeply interested in it, I assure you.
George Headland, of the Yard, Mr. Bawdrey. I don't trust Mr. Narkom's proverbially tricky memory for names. He introduced me as Jones once, and I lost the opportunity of handling the case because the party in question couldn't believe that anybody named Jones would be likely to ferret it out." "Funny idea, that!" commented young Bawdrey, smiling, and accepting the proffered hand.
Bawdrey swung in through the door and joined him, they came upon a horrifying sight. For there, leaning against the open door of the case where the skeleton of the nine-fingered man hung, was Dollops, bleeding and faint, and with a score of toothmarks on his neck and throat.
They came forward at his word, and, looking down, saw that the figure he was bending over was the figure of Philip Bawdrey. "Oh!" gulped Mrs. Bawdrey, and then shut her two hands over her eyes and fell away weak and shivering. "Oh, Mr. Cleek, it can't be it can't! To do a thing like that?" "Oh, he'd have done worse, the little reptile, if he hadn't been pulled up short," said Cleek in reply.
I had a letter from Mrs. Bawdrey the other day. News had just come of his death from Bright's disease, of course in Buenos Ayres. His father never knew of his guilt; never will know now, thank God! He mourned bitterly, of course, poor, dear old chap; but well, Heaven tempers all things with its mercy. The rascal did not die an only son. There's another now, born three months ago.
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