Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 26, 2025
The complaining lodger went off soon after without paying his rent. The CORONER: Was deceased at all nervous? WITNESS: No, he was a very nice gentleman. CORONER: I mean did he seem afraid of being robbed? WITNESS: No, he was always goin' to demonstrations. I told him I lost a purse with 3s. 2d. myself on Jubilee Day. Mrs. Drabdump resumed her seat, weeping vaguely.
I tried to stand outside myself, and to look at the crime with the eyes of another, or of my old self. I found the work of art so perfect as to leave only one sublimely simple solution. The very terms of the problem were so inconceivable that, had I not been the murderer, I should have suspected myself, in conjunction, of course, with Mrs. Drabdump.
Drabdump a curious sense of security, as of a believer living under the shadow of the fane. That any human being of ill odour should consciously come within a mile of the scent of so famous a sleuth-hound seemed to her highly improbable. So Mrs.
"We have to deal, gentlemen," he said, "with a most incomprehensible and mysterious case, the details of which are yet astonishingly simple. On the morning of Tuesday, the 4th inst., Mrs. Drabdump, a worthy hard-working widow, who lets lodgings at 11 Glover Street, Bow, was unable to arouse the deceased, who occupied the entire upper floor of the house.
She happened to be a peculiarly favourable specimen for working on by 'suggestion, but I would have undertaken to produce the same effect on almost any woman. The key to the Big Bow Mystery is feminine psychology. The only uncertain link in the chain was, Would Mrs. Drabdump rush across to get me to break open the door? Women always rush for a man.
Drabdump did not really feel that there had been any danger, especially as a second glance at the street door showed that Mortlake had been thoughtful enough to slip the loop that held back the bolt of the big lock. She allowed herself another throb of sympathy for the labour leader whirling on his dreary way towards Devonport Dockyard.
Why Arthur Constant, B.A. white-handed and white-shirted, and gentleman to the very purse of him should concern himself with tram-men, when fortune had confined his necessary relations with drivers to cabmen at the least, Mrs. Drabdump could not quite make out.
CORONER: And did you wake him? CORONER: There, there, compose yourself. I mean did you try to wake him? MRS. DRABDUMP: I have taken in and done for lodgers this seventeen years, my lud, and have always gave satisfaction; and Mr. Mortlake, he wouldn't ha' recommended me otherwise, though I wish to Heaven the poor gentleman had never CORONER: Yes, yes, of course. You tried to rouse him?
Drabdump's next gas-bill when they predicted the weather and made "Snow" the favourite, and said that "Fog" would be nowhere. Fog was everywhere, yet Mrs. Drabdump took no credit to herself for her prescience. Mrs. Drabdump indeed took no credit for anything, paying her way along doggedly, and struggling through life like a wearied swimmer trying to touch the horizon.
"Whenever the prisoner was away for the night I searched his room. I found the key of Mr. Constant's bedroom buried deeply in the side of prisoner's leather sofa. I found what I imagine to be the letter he received on December 3rd, in the pages of a 'Bradshaw' lying under the same sofa. There were two razors about." Mr. SPIGOT, Q.C., said: "The key has already been identified by Mrs. Drabdump.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking