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Updated: June 27, 2025
He had been in Hickwood, lurking near his uncle for several days. He had since run away and was apparently in hiding.
Got a man coming 'round here in fifteen minutes who read up on the murder suspicions and the rest of it, and he saw a stranger, down in Hickwood the night of Hardy's death, get into Hardy's room at Mrs. Wilson's. It just struck me you ought to know, and so I wired." "Thank you very much," said Garrison. "I consider this highly important. Who is your man?"
If he did, we'll send him to the chair. It may not be murder at all." "Of course," said Garrison. "Who wrote this report?" "What's that to you?" said Wicks. "I wondered why the writer drops out of the case," answered Garrison. "That's all." "I wrote it," said Wicks. "Scott knows me from the former case. If you want the case, you will start this evening for Hickwood and begin your work.
The distance to Hickwood seemed to slip away beneath his feet. He arrived in the hamlet far too soon, for the day had charmed bright dreams into being, and business seemed wholly out of place. The railroad station, a store, an apothecary's shop, and a cobbler's little den seemed to comprise the entire commercial street. Garrison inquired his way to the home of his man the inventor.
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