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Updated: May 6, 2025
Cuthbert Grayne was perhaps more of a criminologist than either a lawyer or a policeman, but in his more barbarous surroundings he had proved successful in turning himself into a practical combination of all three. The discovery of a whole series of strange Oriental crimes stood to his credit.
"What on earth is the trouble?" demanded the other investigator. "The trouble is," said Fisher, "that in a few days we should have had a very agreeable alternative of hanging an innocent man or knocking the British Empire to hell." "Do you mean to say," asked Grayne, "that this infernal crime is not to be punished?" Fisher looked at him steadily. "It is already punished," he said.
Indeed you take too deepe a sence of it. Pedro. What? when I see this meteor hanging ore it? This prodigy in figure of a man, Clad all in flames, with an Inscription Blazing on's head, 'Henrico the Ravisher! Man. Good sir, avoid this passion. Pedro. In battailes I have lost, and seene the falls Of many a right good soldier; but they fell Like blessed grayne that shott up into honour.
"I am beginning," said Grayne, slowly, "to have some hazy and horrible idea of what you mean." "It is very simple," said Fisher, "when Boyle straightened himself from his stooping posture, something had happened which he had not noticed, which his enemy had not noticed, which nobody had noticed. The two coffee cups had exactly changed places."
Where the epitaph-maker of that time occasionally went wrong was in his efforts to get his fantasticalness in willy-nilly, or in a silly play upon words, as in the following example from the little village of Boyton on the Wylie river, on a man named Barnes, who died in 1638: Stay Passenger and view a stack of corne Reaped and laid up in the Almighty's Barne Or rather Barnes of Choyce and precious grayne Put in his garner there still to remaine.
Grayne, who stood staring after him, soon saw his tall, loose figure, returning, restored to all its normal limpness and air of leisure. He was fanning himself slowly with a piece of paper, the telegram he had so violently intercepted. "Lucky I stopped that," he observed. "We must keep this affair as quiet as death. Hastings must die of apoplexy or heart disease."
The next moment Grayne had turned on the lights, and he saw he had only stumbled against one of the revolving bookstands that had swung round and struck him; but his involuntary recoil had revealed to him his own subconscious sense of something mysterious and monstrous.
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