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Updated: May 24, 2025
LOUIS TREVELYAN." It may be explained that before this document had been written there had been much correspondence on the subject between Bozzle and his employer. To give the ex-policeman his due, he had not at first wished to meddle in the matter of the child.
Besides, there are so many things which tend to make a man superstitious and to confirm him in his trust in mascots and charms. Many a man has had a premonition of his death, many a man has come through long months of war, and then has been killed on the day on which he lost his mascot. The thought of superstition recalls to me Joe Williams, the ex-policeman.
I have been with the house some years. My job, I gathered, was to keep my eyes open generally. Sir Thomas, it seemed, had no suspicions of any definite person. I was to be on the spot just in case, in a manner of speaking. And it's precious lucky I was, or her ladyship's jewels would have been gone. I've done a fair cop this very night." He paused, and eyed the ex-policeman keenly.
I'd just put the batch of bread into the oven, and gone upstairs and opened the box that stands on my drawers to get a lozenge, and I missed the brooch." "Do you keep it in that box?" asked the ex-policeman, slowly. "Always," replied his niece. "I at once came down stairs and told Emma that the brooch had been stolen.
Outhouse he regarded as bitter enemies, who had taken the part of his wife without any regard to the decencies of life. And now it had come to pass that his sole remaining ally, Mr. Samuel Bozzle, the ex-policeman, was becoming weary of his service.
A number of our shipmates had put up tents in the neighbourhood, and at night we all gathered round the camp fire to talk and smoke away our misery. One, whose name I forget, was a journalist, correspondent for the 'Nonconformist'. Scott was an artist, Harrison a mechanical engineer. Doran a commercial traveller, Moran an ex-policeman, Beswick a tailor, Bernie a clogger.
Bozzle, except that of sending him back to London, I will not have." The controversy was ended by the writing of a letter from Trevelyan to Bozzle, which was confided to Stanbury, in which the ex-policeman was thanked for his activity and requested to return to London for the present. "As we are now aware that Colonel Osborne is in the neighbourhood," said the letter, "my friend Mr.
McEachern gruffly, giving a pleasing air of novelty to the hackneyed salutation by pronouncing it as one word. He took some little time getting into his stride when carrying on polite conversation. "Very well, thank you. You're looking as strong as ever, Mr. McEachern." The ex-policeman grunted. In a conversational sense, he was sparring for wind. Molly had regained her composure by this time.
Trevelyan had never believed his ally to be more than an ordinary ex-policeman, but he had not considered how unattractive might be the interior of a private detective's private residence. Mrs. Bozzle had set a chair for him, but he had declined to sit down. The room was dirty, and very close, as though no breath of air was ever allowed to find entrance there.
That same evening a champagne banquet was given by the ex-policeman at the Colony Restaurant at which most of the divorce colony were present, and among them, his ex- wife. Both of them were extremely demonstrative; in fact the entire party was decidedly affectionate, and the affair was the talk of the town for months afterwards. After Mr.
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