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Updated: May 1, 2025
The man we engaged was an elderly ex-detective of the Seville police, named Pardo, who very soon discovered the identity of the secret agent employed to keep surveillance upon De Gex on behalf of the police so that no harm should befall him.
Not bludgeoned by the police at the meeting this morning, I hope?" "No, no! He didn't go. He is dead." "Dead?" Grodman's face grew very serious now. "Yes. Murdered!" "What?" almost shouted the ex-detective. "How? When? Where? Who?" "I don't know. I can't get to him. I have beaten at his door. He does not answer." Grodman's face lit up with relief. "You silly woman! Is that all?
You come right with me and I'll show you something that very few other people in this city know of. Guess you'd better pay this fellow off," he added, indicating the ex-detective. "He's no more use to you." Sogrange and Peter exchanged questioning glances. "It is very kind of you, sir," Peter decided, "but for my part I have had enough for one evening."
Drabdump felt a whit uneasy, though, to give her her due, she never suffered as much as most good housewives do from criminals who never come. Not quite opposite, but still only a few doors off, on the other side of the street, lived the celebrated ex-detective Grodman, and, illogically enough, his presence in the street gave Mrs.
Peter recognized him at once and touched Sogrange on the arm. The newcomer accosted them pleasantly. "Say, you'll excuse my butting in," he began, "but I can see you're kind of disappointed. These suckers" indicating the ex-detective "talk a lot about what they're going to show you, and when they get you round it all amounts to nothing.
A criminal class exists as a matter of course. To-night we make our bow to it." "And by what means?" Peter inquired. "Our friend the hall-porter," Sogrange continued, "has given me the card of an ex-detective who will be our escort. He calls for us to-night, or rather to-morrow morning, at one o'clock. Then behold! the wand is waved, the land of adventures opens before us." Peter grunted.
He was in such a frame of mind on the evening of Dyson's murder. His visit to the Vicar of Ecclesall brought him little comfort or consolation. It was in this unsatisfactory frame of mind that he went to Dyson's house. This much the ex-detective would urge in his favour. To his neighbours he was an awe-inspiring but kind and sympathetic man.
The official second-in-command under the Governor was an ex-detective named Greywood Usher, a cadaverous, careful-spoken Yankee philosopher, occasionally varying a very rigid visage with an odd apologetic grimace. He liked Father Brown in a slightly patronizing way; and Father Brown liked him, though he heartily disliked his theories.
Peter recognised him at once and touched Sogrange on the arm. The new-comer accosted them pleasantly. "Say, you'll excuse my butting in," he began, "but I can see you are kind of disappointed. These suckers" indicating the ex-detective "talk a lot about what they're going to show you, and when they get you round, it all amounts to nothing.
It did not seem a very appropriate place or time for a holiday, but Father Brown had few holidays, and had to take them when he could, and he always preferred, if possible, to take them in company with his old friend Flambeau, ex-criminal and ex-detective. The priest had had a fancy for visiting his old parish at Cobhole, and was going north-eastward along the coast.
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