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Updated: June 12, 2025
I got an idea that he'd recently come from some country where trees and hedges and green fields aren't much in evidence. But if you want to know who he is, officer, why don't you search him? He's sure to have papers, cards, and so on about him." "We have searched him," answered Mitchington. "There isn't a paper, a letter, or even a visiting card on him." Mr. Dellingham looked at the landlady.
"I'll tell you now who old Harker is, Mitchington," he said. "You may as well know. I thought Mr. Jettison might recognize the name. Harker is no retired London tradesman he's a retired member of your profession, Mr. Jettison. He was in his day one of the smartest men in the service of your department. Only he's transposed his name ask them at the Yard if they remember Harker Simpson?
"I warned him of that," replied Mitchington. "Yes, I warned him solemnly." "With no effect?" asked Bryce. "He's a surly sort of man," said Mitchington. "The sort that takes refuge in silence. He made no answer beyond a growl." "You really think he knows something?" suggested Bryce. "Well if there is anything, it'll come out in time." "Oh, it'll come out!" assented Mitchington.
Mitchington, whose work hitherto had not led him into the mysteries of detective enterprise, nodded delightedly. "Good!" he said. "Rare idea! I should never have thought of it! And what do you make out of that, now?" "Nothing," replied Jettison. "But a good deal out of what I've learned since that bit of a discovery.
He took one himself and again glanced at the stranger. "To whom am I speaking, in addition to yourself, Inspector?" he asked. "I'm not going to talk to strangers." "Oh, well!" said Mitchington, a little awkwardly. "Of course, doctor, we've had to get a bit of professional help in these unpleasant matters. This gentleman's Detective-Sergeant Jettison, from the Yard."
"The man who's known here as Stephen Folliot," he answered. "That's a fact!" "Nonsense!" exclaimed Mitchington. Then he laughed incredulously. "Can't believe it!" he continued. "Mr. Folliot! Must be some mistake!" "No mistake," replied Glassdale. "Besides, Folliot's only an assumed name.
"Well?" asked Bryce. "I believe the man does know something," answered Mitchington. "That's the impression I carried away, anyhow. But he won't speak. I charged him straight out with knowing something but it was no good. I told him of what I'd heard.
But Mitchington evidently had no suspicion. "That all?" he asked. "Just a question?" "Just a question that question," replied Bryce. "I pointed out the Library and he walked away. I never saw him again until I was fetched to him dead. And I thought so little of the matter that well, it never even occurred to me to mention it." "Then though he did call he never saw Ransford?" asked the inspector.
"Never saw him in my life before last night!" replied the tall man. "We just chanced to meet in the train coming down from London, got talking, and discovered we were both coming to the same place Wrychester. So we came to this house together. No no friend of mine not even an acquaintance previous, of course, to last night. Is is it anything serious?" "He's dead, sir," replied Mitchington.
"In consequence of finding the book about Barthorpe in the suit-case," said Mitchington, "we sent a long telegram yesterday to the police there, telling them what had happened, and asking them to make the most careful inquiries at once about any townsman of theirs of the name of John Braden, and to wire us the result of such inquiries this morning. This is their reply, received by us an hour ago.
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