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Updated: June 9, 2025
It was through this defect in Scott's character that Pillingshot first became a detective. He was toasting muffins at the study fire one evening, while Scott, seated on two chairs and five cushions, read "Sherlock Holmes," when the Prefect laid down his book and fixed him with an earnest eye. "Do you know, Pillingshot," he said, "you've got a bright, intelligent face.
"You're a lot of use, aren't you? As a start, you'd better examine the scene of the robbery, I should say." Pillingshot reluctantly left the room. "Well?" said Scott, when he returned. "Any clues?" "No." "You thoroughly examined the scene of the robbery?" "I looked under the bed." "Under the bed? What's the good of that?
"That cad Pillingshot's been accusing us of bagging Evans' quid." "What's Scott got to do with it?" inquired one of the spectators. Pillingshot explained his position. "All the same," said Daubeny, "you needn't have dragged us into it." "I couldn't help it. He made me." "Awful ass, Scott," admitted Green. Pillingshot welcomed this sign that the focus of popular indignation was being shifted.
It was on the following morning, after breakfast, that the close observer might have noticed a change in the detective's demeanour. He no longer looked as if he were weighed down by a secret sorrow. His manner was even jaunty. Scott noticed it. "What's up?" he inquired. "Got a clue?" Pillingshot nodded. "What is it? Let's have a look." "Sh h h!" said Pillingshot mysteriously.
Anyhow, what put you on to him? How did you get on the track? You're a jolly smart kid, young Pillingshot. How did you work it?" "I have my methods," said Pillingshot with dignity. "Buck up. I shall have to be going over to school in a second." "I hardly like to tell you." "Tell me! Dash it all, I put you on to the case. I'm your employer." "You won't touch me up if I tell you?"
"Shoving himself into other people's business," grumbled Pillingshot. "Trying to be funny," Berkeley summed up. "Rotten at cricket, too." "Can't play a yorker for nuts." "See him drop that sitter on Saturday?" So that was all right. As far as the junior day-room was concerned, Pillingshot felt himself vindicated. But his employer was less easily satisfied.
"Then the theft occurred between the hours of ten and seven-thirty. Mind you, I'm giving you a jolly good leg-up, young Pillingshot. But as it's your first case I don't mind. That'll be all from you, Evans. Pop off." Evans disappeared. Scott turned to the detective. "Well, young Pillingshot," he said, "what do you make of it?" "I don't know." "What steps do you propose to take?" "I don't know."
Pillingshot furtively helped himself to another muffin. "He thinks some one's taken it," he said. "What! Stolen it?" Pillingshot nodded. "What makes him think that?" "He doesn't see how else it could have gone." "Oh, I don't By Jove!" Scott sat up with some excitement. "I've got it," he said. "I knew we should hit on it sooner or later. Here's a field for your genius. You shall be a detective.
I shouldn't wonder if you weren't rather clever. Why do you hide your light under a bushel?" Pillingshot grunted. "We must find some way of advertising you. Why don't you go in for a Junior Scholarship?" "Too old," said Pillingshot with satisfaction. "Senior, then?" "Too young." "I believe by sitting up all night and swotting " "Here, I say!" said Pillingshot, alarmed.
"Now, then, Pillingshot, I'll begin this thing, just to start you off. What makes you think the quid has been stolen, Evans?" "Because I jolly well know it has." "What you jolly well know isn't evidence. We must thresh this thing out. To begin with, where did you last see it?" "When I put it in my pocket." "Good. Make a note of that, Pillingshot. Where's your notebook? Not got one?
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