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Updated: May 16, 2025
"Heaven help us poor detectives if it wasn't!" In a word, since murder will out, Siddle had forgotten his keys! Probably, he had gone to the safe for money, and, while writing the notice as to his absence, had laid down the keys and omitted to pick them up again. Furneaux disregarded ledgers and account books. He examined a bank pass-book and a check-book.
Siddle's innuendoes and protestations were sufficiently hard to bear without the added knowledge that a ridiculous convention denied her the companionship of a man whom she loved, and who, she was beginning to believe, loved her. She swept round on Siddle like a wrathful goddess.
The pedestrians had obviously gone upstairs to wash after their tramp. Mr. Siddle rather forgot himself. He stared so long and earnestly through the field-glasses that he ran full tilt into Mrs. Jefferson and maid before regaining the high-street. But the chemist was a ready man. He lifted his hat with an inquiring smile.
The chemist made no reply, but Hobbs stepped into the breach valiantly. "Keep yer 'air on, Fred," he vociferated. "Siddle means no 'arm. But wot else are yer a-doing of, mornin', noon, an' night?" Elkin laughed, with his queer croak. "If you stay here a day or two, you'll soon get to know what they're driving at, sir," he said to Franklin.
He saw P.C. Robinson peering from behind a curtained window. Siddle, the chemist, came to the shop door, and looked after him. Hobbs, the butcher, ceased sharpening a knife and gazed out. Tomlin, landlord of the Hare and Hounds Inn, surveyed him from the "snug." These things were not gracious. Indeed, they were positively maddening.
After five days, where are we, Mr. Fowler? In the dark, plus a brigand's hat and hair. But there's a queer belief in some parts of England that a phosphorescent gleam shows at night over a deep pool in which a dead body lies. That's just how I feel about Siddle. The man's an enigma. What sort of place is Steynholme for a chemist of his capacities? Dr.
"Didn't you say you wanted some anti-arthritic salts early in the week?" he asked. "Yes," said Mrs. Jefferson, "but I got some to-day in Knoleworth, thank you." "Well, I was just making up an indent, and might as well include your specific if you really needed it." Which was kind and thoughtful of Mr. Siddle, but not quite true, though it fully explained his presence at Mrs. Jefferson's gate. Mr.
The chauffeur will bring us back here in half an hour, Miss Martin. Will that suit your convenience?" "Oh, yes. I am free till nearly four o'clock. We have a guest to tea then." "I have a well-developed bump of curiosity these days. Who is it, may I ask?" "Mr. Siddle, the local chemist." "Indeed. An old friend, I suppose?" "We have known him seven years, ever since he came to Steynholme." "Ah.
You were simply reeking with conceit when I met you this morning. It was 'Siddle this' and 'Siddle that' until you fairly sickened me. One would have thought I hadn't cleared the ground for you, left you with all lines open and yourself unknown to the enemy. Sometimes, you make me tired." "Sorry, Charles," said Winter patronizingly. "I had a bit of luck on Sunday, I admit.
"True," agreed Furneaux. "I only brought it in as a sop. But, to continue, as the tub-thumper says. Isn't it permissible to assume that Siddle accompanied the lady, either by prior arrangement or by contriving a meeting which looked like mere chance? We know that she went to his shop. We know, too, that he was clever and unscrupulous, and any allusion to Grant would stir his wits to the uttermost.
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