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Updated: July 27, 2025
"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.
"H'm!" muttered Soames, "that's all, is it?" "Yes," said Mr. Polteed, "but quite promising." 'Spider! thought Soames. "Good-day!" He walked into the Green Park that he might cross to Victoria Station and take the Underground into the City. For so late in January it was warm; sunlight, through the haze, sparkled on the frosty grass an illumined cobweb of a day. Little spiders and great spiders!
'Like my life, thought Soames, 'without object, on and on! Soames returned to England the following day, and on the third morning received a visit from Mr. Polteed, who wore a flower and carried a brown billycock hat. Soames motioned him to a seat. "The news from the war is not so bad, is it?" said Mr. Polteed. "I hope I see you well, sir." "Thanks! quite." Mr.
Polteed remained unopened in Soames' pocket throughout two hours of sustained attention to the affairs of the 'New Colliery Company, which, declining almost from the moment of old Jolyon's retirement from the Chairmanship, had lately run down so fast that there was now nothing for it but a 'winding-up. He took the letter out to lunch at his City Club, sacred to him for the meals he had eaten there with his father in the early seventies, when James used to like him to come and see for himself the nature of his future life.
"H'm!" muttered Soames, "that's all, is it?" "Yes," said Mr. Polteed, "but quite promising." 'Spider! thought Soames. "Good-day!" He walked into the Green Park that he might cross to Victoria Station and take the Underground into the City. For so late in January it was warm; sunlight, through the haze, sparkled on the frosty grass an illumined cobweb of a day. Little spiders and great spiders!
"Go on with it, but be careful," said Soames doggedly. Instinctive certainty that this detective fellow had fathomed his secret made him all the more reticent. "Excuse me," said Mr. Polteed, "I'll just see if there's anything fresh in." He returned with some letters. Relocking the door, he glanced at the envelopes. "Yes, here's a personal one from 19 to myself." "Well?" said Soames.
Polteed remained unopened in Soames' pocket throughout two hours of sustained attention to the affairs of the 'New Colliery Company, which, declining almost from the moment of old Jolyon's retirement from the Chairmanship, had lately run down so fast that there was now nothing for it but a 'winding-up. He took the letter out to lunch at his City Club, sacred to him for the meals he had eaten there with his father in the early seventies, when James used to like him to come and see for himself the nature of his future life.
Something to talk of there, when I retire! And for one wild moment he thought: 'Why not? After all, hundreds of men of medium height had small feet and a guilty look! "I'm not authorised to take any risk!" he said shortly. Mr. Polteed looked up. "Pity," he said, "quite a pity! That other affair seemed very costive." Soames rose. "Never mind that.
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