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Freeman, R. Austin (Richard Austin), 1862-1943

"The Vanishing Man"

"
Summers laughed. "I don't know. He supplies the comic relief. And then,
you know, those fellows have their uses. Some of his questions were
pretty pertinent."
"So Badger seemed to think."
"Yes, by Jove," chuckled Summers, "Badger didn't like him a bit; and I
suspect the worthy inspector was sailing pretty close to the wind in his
answers."
"You think he really has some private information?"
"Depends upon what you mean by 'information.' The police are not a
speculative body. They wouldn't be taking all this trouble unless they
had a pretty straight tip from somebody. How are Mr. and Miss
Bellingham? I used to know them slightly when they lived here."
I was considering a discreet answer to this question when we swept into
the station yard. At the same moment the train drew up at the platform,
and, with a hurried hand-shake and hastily spoken thanks, I sprang from
the dog-cart and darted into the station.
During the rather slow journey homewards I read over my notes and
endeavoured to extract from the facts they set forth some significance
other than that which lay on the surface, but without much success.


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