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Updated: May 5, 2025
Dad took 'em in, and has been keeping them and doing for them ever since. I don't like them never did like them. Fordyce doesn't like them, either. Colonel Goshen does, however. He's sweet on the girl, I fancy." Cleek's eyebrows twitched upward suddenly, his eyes flashed a sharp glance at the lieutenant, and then dropped again. "Colonel Goshen, eh?" he said quietly.
"Strangers, ain't you?" she said, pleasantly, leaning on the bar and grinning at them. "Yus." Cleek's voice was sharp, emphatic. "Thought so. Sea-faring, I take it?" "Yus," said Cleek again, and gulped down the rest of his ale, pushing the tankard toward her and nodding at it significantly. She sniffed, and then laughed. "Want another, eh? Ain't wastin' many words, are yer, matey?
Narkom, emphatically, following Cleek's lead though rather in the dark. "It's back to London for me, whenever you're ready." "And that'll be as soon as Dollops can pack my things and get 'em off to the station." The question of packing was a very small matter altogether, and it was barely seven o'clock when, this finished, Cleek and Mr.
"All right. You may go home now. I've got my man," he whispered, as Ailsa and the boy passed by. "Look for me at Chepstow House some time to-night." Then rose, as she walked on, and went after the man who first had prostrated himself before the child. He had risen and gone on his way, but not before witnessing Cleek's obeisance, and flashing upon him a sharp, searching look.
It was half-past ten on a wet September night when Superintendent Narkom's limousine pulled up in front of Cleek's house in Clarges Street, and the superintendent himself, disguised, as he always was when paying visits to his famous ally, stepped out and with infinite care assisted a companion to alight.
"Sir, you are welcome," she said in a voice whose modulations were not lost upon Cleek's ears as he put forth his hand and received the tips of her little, henna-stained fingers upon his palm. "Peace be with you, who are of his people he that I loved and mourn!"
Well, Cleek's got you, you sneaking murderer. Gentlemen, come in! Allow me to turn over to you the murderer of George Carboys! You'll find the body inside that slumbering nymph!" And the last thing that Mr.
"Keep your father up after everybody else has gone to bed, especially Aunt Ruth," he went on. "If she's not at hand, the damage can't be repaired for this night at least. Give him your room and you come in with me. Bridewell, I know the man; I know the means; and with God's help to-night I'll know the reason as well!" Everything was carried out in accordance with Cleek's plan.
The doctor looked up into the keen eyes bent upon him, his own equally keen. He did not know whether he liked this man of the law or not. Something of the man's personality, unfortunate as had been its revelation during this past trying hour, had caught him in its thrall. He measured him, eye for eye, but Cleek's never wavered. "I've no instruments," he said at last, hedging for time.
The big old grandfather clock at the top of the stairs pointed ten minutes past two, and the house was hushed of every sound save that which is the evidence of deep sleep, when the door of Cleek's room swung quietly open, and Cleek himself, in dressing-gown and wadded bedroom slippers, stepped out into the dark hall, and, leaving Dollops on guard, passed like a shadow over the thick, unsounding carpet.
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