Why should they want to crack your place, right here
in the Temple, too? You've got nothing of value here, have you? No
'hard stuff,' as they call it, for instance?"
"Not so much as a silver teaspoon," replied Thorndyke, who had a
conscientious objection to plate of all kinds.
"It's odd," said the superintendent, "deuced odd. When we got your note,
we thought these anarchist idiots had mixed you up with the case--you
saw the papers, I suppose--and wanted to go through your rooms for some
reason. We thought we had our hands on the gang, instead of which we
find a party of common crooks that we're sick of the sight of. I tell
you, sir, it's annoying when you think you've hooked a salmon, to bring
up a blooming eel."
"It must be a great disappointment," Thorndyke agreed, suppressing a
smile.
"It is," said the detective. "Not but what we're glad enough to get
these beggars, especially Halkett, or Barton, as he calls himself--a
mighty slippery customer is Halkett, and mischievous, too--but we're not
wanting any disappointments just now. There was that big jewel job in
Piccadilly, Taplin and Horne's; I don't mind telling you that we've not
got the ghost of a clue.
Pages:
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235