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Updated: June 26, 2025
"You will never see Jolnes," I continued, "until this murder has been forgotten, two or three weeks from now. I had a better opinion of your shrewdness, Knight. During the three hours and a half that you waited he has got out of your ken. He is after you on true induction theories now, and no wrongdoer has yet been known to come upon him while thus engaged. I advise you to give it up."
"In fifteen minutes," he said, "I will return, bringing you her present address." Shamrock Jolnes turned pale, but forced a smile. Within the specified time Juggins returned and consulted a little slip of paper held in his hand. "Your sister, Mary Snyder," he announced calmly, "will be found at No. 162 Chilton street. She is living in the back hall bedroom, five flights up.
I could not help crying out in admiration. "Suppose we go out for a ramble," suggested Jolnes. "There is only one case of importance on hand just now. Old man McCarty, one hundred and four years old, died from eating too many bananas.
Jolnes addressed him at the door: "Pardon me, sir, but are you not Colonel Hunter, of Norfolk, Virginia?" "No, suh," was the extremely courteous answer. "My name, suh, is Ellison Major Winfield R. Ellison, from Fairfax County, in the same state.
"I think you would do well to consult Juggins," said he. "Who is Juggins?" asked Meeks. "He is the leader," said Jolnes, "of a new modern school of detectives. Their methods are different from ours, but it is said that Juggins has solved some extremely puzzling cases. I will take you to him." They found the greater Juggins in his office.
"By the gold tooth of the Witch of Endor!" I cried, "if you can construe all that from his appearance you are dealing in nothing else than black art." "The habit of observation nothing more," said Jolnes. "If the old gentleman gets off the car before we do, I think I can demonstrate to you the accuracy of my deduction." Three blocks farther along the gentleman rose to leave the car.
"Are you sure that you are not being led into some trap?" I asked. "Suppose that your clue, whatever it is, should bring us only into the presence of the Commissioner of Police and a couple of dozen cops!" "My dear doctor," said Knight, a little stiffly. "I would remind you that I am no gambler." "I beg your pardon," said I. "But I do not think you will find Jolnes."
The evidence points so strongly to the Mafia that the police have surrounded the Second Avenue Katzenjammer Gambrinus Club No. 2, and the capture of the assassin is only the matter of a few hours. The detective force has not yet been called on for assistance." Jolnes and I went out and up the street toward the corner, where we were to catch a surface car.
After waiting for two hours in the anteroom of the great detective's apartment, Meeks was shown into his presence. Jolnes sat in a purple dressing-gown at an inlaid ivory chess table, with a magazine before him, trying to solve the mystery of "They." The famous sleuth's thin, intellectual face, piercing eyes, and rate per word are too well known to need description. Meeks set forth his errand.
"Perhaps so," said Jolnes, lightly; "but the man you evidently refer to happens to be a very chivalrous and courteous gentleman from Old Virginia. He is spending a few days in New York with his wife and two daughters, and he leaves for the South to-night." "You know him, then?" I said, in amazement. "I never saw him before we stepped on the car," declared the detective, smilingly.
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