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"Well, I was sure she was not," Gimblet replied, "but I promised to ask. Lady Ruth is rather upset because Miss Byrne did not come in to lunch. I told her she had probably gone for a longer walk than had been her intention," he added soothingly, for Mark was looking at him with a disturbed expression. He seemed relieved, however, by the detective's suggestion.
That gray car is nothing more nor less than a red herring accidentally drawn across the trail. Some cute Chinaman said 'Hallo! that murdered woman is the wife of Forbes's agent in Shanghai. Now, let's see what Forbes is doing, and who visits him, and perhaps we'll learn something. Want a bet?" Forbes could not help but recover some of his shattered nerve in view of the detective's airy optimism.
You are not financially embarrassed, so far as we can determine, at least." Maitland politely interposed his fingers between his yawn and the detective's intent regard. "You have ten minutes more, I'm sorry to say," he said; glancing at the clock. "And there is another point, more significant yet." "Ah?" "Yes."
Then Hurd went to the village police-office, and told a bucolic constable to keep his eye on Miss Junk's "fureiner," as he learned Hokar was called. The policeman, a smooth-faced individual, promised to do so, after Hurd produced his credentials, and sauntered towards "The Red Pig," at some distance from the detective's heels.
On to this verandah windows opened from both the dining and sitting-rooms, the servants' quarters being on the other side of the house. We went round the angle of the building and tried the first window. It was fastened. With cat-like tread Forrest glided on to the second. It was one of the two giving entrance to the sitting-room. A sibilant sound from the detective's lips took me to his side.
An homeless outcast, necessity forces him to send them out to prey upon the community by day, and to seek in this wretched hovel a shelter at night. Yonder the rags are thrown back, a moving mass is disclosed, and there protrudes a disfigured face, made ghostly by the shadow of the detective's lantern.
"That boy didn't do a thing to Will, did he?" he added with a roar of laughter. "He told him a story about coming in on blind baggage, and sized up the camp, and stole the badge and the weapons and money of the detective sent in here to capture his father. Just think of the kid coming in here and stealing the detective's badge! He'd have taken his necktie if he'd 'a' thought of it!"
Dyke Darrel glanced at the speaker, a gentleman with enormous red beard, and rather worn silk hat. This was the detective's first introduction to Professor Ruggles. "I've no doubt of his being tough," answered Dyke Darrel. "How did it happen?" "I think the fellow intended to throw me off the train." "Goodness! is that so? What was the trouble about?" "No trouble that I am aware of.
The detective's keen senses were satisfied. "Dollars to doughnuts they're not here. They've probably gone on. I'll have to take a chance and show the light again." Fresh footprints were revealed in the narrow circle of illumination. Testifying to Paredes's continued stealth, they made a straight line to the water's edge. Rawlins exclaimed: "He stepped into the lake. How deep is it?"
The young man looked over the detective's head and lied. "Five hundred that's what I told him." "And he wouldn't consider it?" "Something has braced him so that he isn't afraid of the man any longer. Perhaps he has got a line of his own on him. It doesn't seem to be worth anything any longer. Suppose you tell me just who he is and what about him?"
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