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Updated: May 27, 2025
'Good God! I cried, aghast, 'what is this? 'It is the pistol, said Kombs quietly. It was!! Journalistic London will not soon forget the sensation that was caused by the record of the investigations of Sherlaw Kombs, as printed at length in the next day's Evening Blade. Would that my story ended here. Alas! Kombs contemptuously turned over the pistol to Scotland Yard.
They opened the door with the deceased's key. It is supposed that the pistol dropped when they were hoisting the body in the carriage. The Queen's evidence dodge didn't work, and Scotland Yard ignobly insulted my friend Sherlaw Kombs by sending him a pass to see the villains hanged.
Official opinion naturally accepted the official account, and for the next few days Mr Beveridge became an object of considerable anxiety and mistrust. “I can’t make the man out,” said Sherlaw to Escott. “I had begun to think there was nothing much the matter with him.”
I hardly think so, Sherlaw, I hardly think so. Case of reaction entirely. Good morning.” “Congleton seems satisfied,” remarked Escott. “I’ll tell you what,” said the junior, profoundly. “Old Congers is a very good chap, and all that, but he’s not what I should call extra sharp. I should feel uncommon suspicious.” “H’m,” replied Escott. “As you say, our worthy chief is not extra sharp.
Twelve o’clock struck, Escott finished the remains of something in a tumbler, rose, and yawned sleepily. “Time to turn in, young man,” said he. “I suppose it is,” replied Sherlaw, a very pleasant and boyish young gentleman. “Hullo! What’s that? A cab?” They both listened, and some way off they could just pick out a sound like wheels upon gravel.
I cried, aghast, "what is this?" "It is the pistol," said Kombs quietly. It was!! Journalistic London will not soon forget the sensation that was caused by the record of the investigations of Sherlaw Kombs, as printed at length in the next day's Evening Blade. Would that my story ended here. Alas! Kombs contemptuously turned over the pistol to Scotland Yard.
Such, indeed, proved to be the case, for one of the morning papers had contained an article, eulogizing the alertness and general competence of Scotland Yard. So great was Sherlaw Kombs's contempt for Scotland Yard that he never would visit Scotland during his vacations, nor would he ever admit that a Scotchman was fit for anything but export.
You are fit to take charge of Scotland Yard tomorrow . I am in earnest, indeed I am, sir. 'Then heaven help you, cried Kombs, slowly raising his right arm. I sprang between them. 'Don't shoot! I cried. 'You will spoil the carpet. Besides, Sherlaw, don't you see the man means well. He actually thinks it is a compliment!
Some moments after the pallid Minister looked over the work of destruction, but no trace of humanity was there except himself. "I could not do otherwise," he murmured, "It was too great a risk to run." I dropped in on my friend, Sherlaw Kombs, to hear what he had to say about the Pegram mystery, as it had come to be called in the newspapers.
But that’s not our business, after all.” “By the way,” said Escott, a couple of days later, “how is your mysterious man getting on? I haven’t seen him myself yet.” Sherlaw laughed. “He’s turning out a regular sportsman, by George! For the first day he was more or less in the same state in which he arrived.
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