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Updated: May 25, 2025
People glanced from it to the witness: some of those present recognized him as a young mechanic, a native of Hathelsborough, who had gone, a few years previously, to work in the neighbouring manufacturing city of Clothford such began to ask themselves what he could have to do with this case and waited eagerly for his evidence.
This man followed Mallett from Hathelsborough to Clothford one morning, and from Clothford station to the Royal County Hotel, where, in the lounge, he was joined by Mrs. Saumarez, who had been previously pointed out to the agent here in Hathelsborough, and who had evidently cycled over to Clothford.
Then he addressed himself to his witness and got the first facts from him Samuel Owthwaite. Mechanic. Employed by Green & Polford, Limited, of Clothford, agents for all the leading firms of typewriter manufacturers. "I believe you're a native of Hathelsborough, aren't you, Owthwaite?" began Meeking. "I am, sir." "Keep up your interest in the old place, eh?" "I do, sir."
"What have you done about it?" asked Brent. Hawthwaite gave him a knowing look. "Well, I'll tell you that too," he answered. "I've got the machine! It's there in that box in the corner. The Clothford firm will make an excuse to Mr. Crood that they've had to send this machine away for repairs eh? Of course I'm not going to let it out of my possession until well, until we know more."
Brent, as Miss Queenie there knows, is our big town, only a few miles away. He said that he'd come to tell me something in confidence. The previous day, he said, Mr. Crood, of Hathelsborough, had come to their place in Clothford and had brought with him an old-fashioned typewriter which, he told them, he had bought when such things first came out.
"Somebody else been at the same game, eh?" "I'll tell you," answered Hawthwaite, settling himself in his chair. "It's a bit since let us think, now yes, it would be a day or two after that facsimile appeared in the Monitor that a young man came to me here one evening: respectable artisan sort of chap. He told me that he was in the employ of a typewriter company at Clothford, which, Mr.
Of course that was from Mallett. He glanced at the post-marks. The telegram had been sent from Clothford at seven o'clock the previous evening, and received at Hathelsborough before eight. It was an appointment without doubt. Brent knew Lingmore Cross Roads. He had been there on a pleasure jaunt with Queenie.
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