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Updated: June 15, 2025
There he was in his wig, whiskers, glasses, ulster, and slouch hat; and the next moment, presto, valeted by Mr. Inspector, there he was in his fur coat the elegant gentleman who had invaded Burton and Norcross' jewelry store! Hollings recognized him in a twinkling and without a shade of hesitation singled him out from twelve other men; so, also, did Mr. Rhinehart and Christopher. Poor Stuart!
Burton, instead of wasting time in reprimands, we've got to get down to facts. May I question these people?" "Certainly, certainly!" Mr. Burton, however, seemed to be taken aback at being treated with such scant ceremony. "This is Mr. Hollings, the clerk; and this lad is my son, Christopher." "Very good! Now, Mr. Hollings, suppose you tell your tale first.
And to prove it, they were now giving him a present. Mr. Rhinehart, Hollings, McPhearson, old Saunders all of them had had a part in it and they said it was because they had become fond of him and admired him for being so cheerful and patient about his eyes. Their kindness overwhelmed him and brought a queer, tight, choky feeling into his throat. He didn't deserve any of the things Mr.
Relate exactly what happened not what you thought or supposed. Stick to facts." "I will, sir." In a trembling voice Hollings began his story, and as he recounted it, Mr. Inspector jotted it down, merely pausing now and then to ask a curt question. "Can you describe the men?" inquired he, when the narrative was finished.
Well, the sign on Ben's back is, 'Green Turtle Soup To-morrow, and Ben is drug up to the sidewalk in front of the Little Gem. And Hollings does have turtle-soup next day, but it's always the little turtles that's killed, and old Ben is hiked back to his boudoir until another killing comes off.
Rhinehart, Hollings, McPhearson, and even the old colored elevator man, who every day had carried him up and down. Mr. Norcross also stole in from his office and so did the prim Miss Elkins. Then, to the boy's astonishment, Mr. Rhinehart stepped forward and began a little speech.
Hollings answered, "though the road's been washed dry, and the creeks are brimming. I've scarcely set foot in the village this morning, but they're all a-talking about the soldier gentleman the Duke brought down to the village hall last night. Might you have seen him, sir?" "Yes, I saw him," I answered.
"Come, come, Hollings," interrupted a newcomer, whom the group greeted as Mr. Rhinehart. "There's no good crying over spilled milk. We may get the ring back again, you know." "Oh, do you think so?" "There is a good chance of it. I have telephoned and headquarters has its nets set already. The pawnshops are watched and so are the roads out of the city. The police, too, have their orders.
"Feel better?" interrogated McPhearson, anxiously. "I'm all right. There's not a thing the matter with me. The trouble is that the man opposite us was the chap who pinched that ring from Hollings." "Are you sure?" "Pretty sure. At any rate, it's worth tipping off headquarters. Where's there a telephone?" "There's a drug store just across the street, Christopher. But hold on!
Christopher pitied him and so did everybody else, and by and by public sentiment was almost more concerned with his unhappiness than with the tragedy that caused it. "Dad doesn't harbor any grudge against you, Mr. Hollings!" repeated the lad for the twentieth time, in a hope of consoling the unfortunate clerk. "Neither does Mr. Norcross. I heard him tell my father so."
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