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Updated: May 3, 2025
There was thrill, glamour, romance, drama, everything that goes to make the big newspaper event. And it was. At the police station, where the investigators and the reporters were sent by Dr. Simpson, they were told that Detective Brasher, who had the case in hand, was still at the home of Morris Miller, finishing his examination. They had no difficulty finding the Morris home.
"Given the hypothesis that Miller was murdered, the rest was easy. If you will go back there, Brasher, and dig your nail into the putty holding the window nearest to the bolt, you will find it soft; the other putty is hard. There are five rows of panes. The one I refer to is in the middle row at the extreme left.
I was telling myself how foolish I had been to allow myself to dwell for a moment on Tress's words, when Martin Brasher was shown in. Brasher is an old friend of mine. We have a common ground ghosts. Only we approach them from different points of view. He takes the scientific psychological inquiry side. He is always anxious to hear of a ghost, so that he may have an opportunity of "showing it up."
"Your words would almost lead one to suppose that there was something about your method of acquiring the pipe which you have good and weighty reasons for concealing." "I don't know why I should conceal the thing from you. I don't suppose either of you is any better than I am. I don't mind telling you how I got the pipe. I stole it." "Stole it!" Brasher seemed both amazed and shocked.
"May I examine this weapon, Mr. Brasher?" "Sure, help yourself." "It is certain, Mr. Brasher, that there are no finger prints on this weapon other than those of Mr. Miller?" "That's certain. Our finger print man hasn't had the experience of the big city men, but he's a good man, just the same, and knows what he's talkin' about." "And he said what, about the finger prints?"
"Who takes care of these rooms, Mr. Brasher; I mean who cleans them?" "I don't know, but there's a sort of housekeeper. I'll get her up here." "Do so, please." A thin, middle-aged woman, dressed in somber black, appeared. She looked from one to the other of the group of men. There was no emotion visible on her thin features, except for a tinge of defiance. She was introduced as Mrs. Horsnall.
"No, but you very soon will do if you care to have a pull at the pipe on your own account. Do, Brasher, to oblige me! There's a dear!" "It appears, then, that the movement is only observable when the pipe is smoked. We have at least arrived at step No. 1." "Here's a match, Brasher! Light up, and we shall have arrived at step No. 2." Tress lit a match and held it out to Brasher.
Professor Brierly spoke to Brasher: "Bits of brick and mortar on the fish line, twine and rope show that this was in all probability the means used by Miller's murderer. This is probably from the chimney. There is also some roof paint, from the edge of the roof of Miller's Folly." He looked at the notes he and Matthews had made. He continued: "Mr.
I am not familiar with hat factories, but it must be in a branch of the factory, where the hat is worked after it has been dyed." He caught the detective's look of astonishment. "Really, Mr. Brasher, there is nothing remarkable about this. Your feat of finding the rope was far more meritorious, both the reasoning and the actual finding of the rope. What John and I did just now was absurdly simple.
But it doesn't follow that I shall tell you." "Surely your object, like ours, can be but the Spreading About of the Truth?" "I don't see it at all. It is possible to imagine a case in which the spreading about of the truth might make me look a little awkward." "Indeed!" Brasher pursed up his lips.
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