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David Brunger's card together with a selection of entirely unsolicited testimonials composed and dictated by Mr. Brunger for the occasion. Also his duty to receive clients.
Fletcher's outhouses; at nine the villain is tramping the railway platform, in agony lest his burden shall mi-aow; at ten the monster is at Dippleford Admiral; at eleven the traitor is asleep in the bedroom of an inn, the agitated Rose uneasily slumbering upon his bed. Terror At Dippleford Admiral. "Impress your client," was the maxim of Mr. David Brunger.
George sprang to the sideboard where always stood a jug of Mr. Marrapit's favourite refreshment. Mr. Marrapit drank, agitation rattling the glass against his teeth. "Think what it means to you, sir," persuaded Mr. Brunger, a little alarmed at the effects of his proposal.
Brunger grovelled on the path with tape measure and note-book; measured every pair of boots in the house; measured the window; measured the room; in neat little packets tied up specimens of the gravel, specimens of the turf, specimens of hair from the Rose of Sharon's coat, picked from her bed. It was six o'clock when he had concluded.
A man is there whom you must watch the landlord." "One of the gangs?" Mr. Brunger asked, hoarse excitement in his voice. "Gang B leader. Don't let him suspect you. Just watch him." "Has he got the cat?" With great impressiveness George looked at the detective, looked at Bill. Bill cried: "By Gad!" The detective rubbed his hands in keen anticipation. They entered the inn.
The sagacious detective entered. George gave him a limp, damp hand. "You don't look well," Mr. Brunger told him, after greetings. "Just what I was saying," Bill joined. Indeed, George looked far from well. Round-shouldered he sat upon the sofa, head in hands a pallid face beneath a beaded brow staring out between them. "It's the strain of this clue, Mr. Brunger," Bill continued.
With masterly celerity Mr. Brunger drew forward pen and paper; scribbled; in three minutes had Mr. Marrapit's signed authority to offer one hundred pounds reward. He put the document in his pocket; took up his hat. "To-morrow," he said after farewells, "I or one of my staff will return to scour the immediate neighbourhood. It has been done, you tell me, but only by amateurs.
It will be touch and go; but if we miss it this time it is a certainty for the immediate future. I swear this, that if you keep in touch with me you will be nearer the cat than you will ever get by yourselves." Sincerity shone in his eyes from these words. The detective and Bill were fired with zeal. "Take command, sir!" said Mr. Brunger. "All right. Come with me. I will post you for the night.
This day I have sent young Mr. Wyvern and Mr. Brunger after my nephew George. The clue he claims to know is my last chance. I have no faith in it. Put not your trust " Mr. Marrapit allowed a melancholy sigh to conclude his sentence. This man had suffered much. Mrs. Major clasped her hands. "Oh, do not give up hope, Mr. Marrapit. Something tells me you will see her soon, very soon." Mr.
I tell you this is a devil of a complicated affair. Gang B tracks down gang C and finds gang D. They join. Call 'em gang B-D. Gang A loses the cat and gang C finds it. Gang C sells it to gang B-D, which is run by an American, as I said." "Did you?" gasped Mr. Brunger without looking up. "Certainly. Gang B-D hands it over to gang A by mistake, and gang A makes off with it.
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