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Updated: June 27, 2025
Lewis Polteed was one of those men with dark hair, slightly curved noses, and quick brown eyes, who might be taken for Jews but are really Phoenicians; he received Soames in a room hushed by thickness of carpet and curtains. It was, in fact, confidentially furnished, without trace of document anywhere to be seen.
Soames rose and went to the window. He stood there in sardonic fury. Congenital idiot spidery congenital idiot! Seven months at fifteen pounds a week to be tracked down as his own wife's lover! Guilty look! He threw the window open. "It's hot," he said, and came back to his seat. Crossing his knees, he bent a supercilious glance on Mr. Polteed.
In short, the situation is promising, but requires patience." And, looking up suddenly, he added: "One rather curious point 47 has the same name as er 31!" 'The fellow knows I'm her husband, thought Soames. "Christian name an odd one Jolyon," continued Mr. Polteed. "We know his address in Paris and his residence here. We don't wish, of course, to be running a wrong hare."
And the greatest spinner of all, his own tenacity, for ever wrapping its cocoon of threads round any clear way out. What was that fellow hanging round Irene for? Was it really as Polteed suggested? Or was Jolyon but taking compassion on her loneliness, as he would call it sentimental radical chap that he had always been? If it were, indeed, as Polteed hinted! Soames stood still. It could not be!
The party watched will be 17; the watcher 19; the Mansions 25; yourself I should say, your firm 31; my firm 32, myself 2. In case you should have to mention your client in writing I have called him 43; any person we suspect will be 47; a second person 51. Any special hint or instruction while we're about it?" "No," said Soames; "that is every consideration compatible." Again Mr. Polteed nodded.
I'm instructing Linkman and Laver of Budge Row to act for me. I don't want to hear your evidence, but kindly make your report to them at five o'clock, and continue to observe the utmost secrecy." Mr. Polteed half closed his eyes, as if to comply at once. "My dear sir," he said. "Are you convinced," asked Soames with sudden energy, "that there is enough?" The faintest movement occurred to Mr.
Soames rose and went to the window. He stood there in sardonic fury. Congenital idiot spidery congenital idiot! Seven months at fifteen pounds a week to be tracked down as his own wife's lover! Guilty look! He threw the window open. "It's hot," he said, and came back to his seat. Crossing his knees, he bent a supercilious glance on Mr. Polteed.
Polteed unlocked a drawer, produced a memorandum, ran his eyes over it, and locked the drawer up again. "Yes," he said; "the very woman." Soames had seated himself and crossed his legs nothing but a faint flush, which might have been his normal complexion, betrayed him. "Send her off at once, then, to watch a Mrs. Irene Heron of Flat C, Truro Mansions, Chelsea, till further notice."
"Um!" said Mr. Polteed, "she says: '47 left for England to-day. Address on his baggage: Robin Hill. Parted from 17 in Louvre Gallery at 3.30; nothing very striking. Thought it best to stay and continue observation of 17. You will deal with 47 in England if you think desirable, no doubt." And Mr.
Polteed would not know, at first at all events, whose wife she was, would not look at him obsequiously and leer behind his back. She would just be the wife of one of his clients. And that would be true for was he not his own solicitor? He was literally afraid not to put his design into execution at the first possible moment, lest, after all, he might fail himself.
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