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Updated: May 13, 2025
Galer was there to keep him company. If, during the course of the day, he had occasion to fetch a handkerchief or a cigarette-case from his bedroom, he was sure, on emerging, to stumble upon Mr. Galer in the corridor. The employees of Dodson's Private Inquiry Agency believed in earning their salaries.
By the side of the stove the old stewards and the new minister stand awhile talking over the moral status of the country, the advances made by the Baptists, and the amount of money contributed by Dodson's Corner to the various funds of the church.
Dodson, and you practically have a corner in X. Y. Z. I thought you might that is, I thought you might not remember that he sold you the stock at 98. If he settles at the market price it will take every cent he has in the world and his home too to deliver the shares." The expression on Dodson's face changed in an instant to one of cold ferocity mingled with inexorable cupidity.
Several lads and worldlings at the gate, slashing their boots with riding-whips, make obeisance, while two or three plain old gentlemen walk down to meet us, saying: "Brother Ryder, we pré-sume! Welcome to Dodson's Corner, Brother Ryder!"
The first day slipped by, a blank, and the second; till, now, it was but a matter of hours. The last afternoon had come. Not even Mr. Samuel Galer, of Dodson's Private Inquiry Agency, could have kept a more unflagging watch than did Jimmy during those hours.
It was afore I come here, which is quite a lively, sociable place compared to Dodson's back country out-station, at the foot o' those there ranges beyond. I give you my word, ma'am, it used always to make me feel as if I was dead, and living in a lonely eternity.
The months sped by; the Cup-ties began, and soon it was evident that the Final must be fought out between Houndsditch Wednesday and Mr Jacob Dodson's pet team, Manchester United. With each match the Wednesday seemed to improve. Clarence was a Gibraltar among goal-keepers. Those were delirious days for Daniel Rackstraw. Long before the fourth round his voice had dwindled to a husky whisper.
He could not forget that it was Jimmy who had extricated him from a very uncomfortable position. He saw now that that position was not so bad as it had seemed at the time, for the establishing of the innocence of Mr. Galer could have been effected on the morrow by an exchange of telegrams between the castle and Dodson's Private Inquiry Agency; yet it had certainly been bad enough.
Behind the clumsy watcher, he had seen always the self-satisfied figure of McEachern. If there had been anything subtle about the man from Dodson's, he could have forgiven him; but there was not. Years of practise had left Spike with a sort of sixth sense as regarded representatives of the law. He could pierce the most cunning disguise.
That night, in his room, before going to bed, he wrote a letter. It was an unusual letter, but, singularly enough, almost identical with one Sir Thomas Blunt had written that very morning. It was addressed to the Manager of Dodson's Private Inquiry Agency, of Bishopsgate Street, E. C., and ran as follows: Sir, On receipt of this, kindly send down one of your smartest men.
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