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

"The Vanishing Man"

I am greatly relieved. The
respite gives us time to carry out our investigations without undue
hurry."
"Did you find my notes of any use?" I asked.
"Heath did. Polton handed them to him, and they were invaluable to him
for his cross-examination. I haven't seen them yet; in fact, I have only
just got them back from him. Let us go through them together now."
He opened a drawer, and taking from it my note-book, seated himself, and
began to read through my notes with grave attention, while I stood and
looked shyly over his shoulder. On the page that contained my sketches
of the Sidcup arm, showing the distribution of the snails' eggs on the
bones, he lingered with a faint smile that made me turn hot and red.
"Those sketches look rather footy," I said; "but I had to put something
in my note-book."
"You didn't attach any importance, then, to the facts that they
illustrated?"
"No. The egg-patches were there, so I noted the fact. That's all."
"I congratulate you, Berkeley. There is not one man in twenty who would
have the sense to make a careful note of what he considers an
unimportant or irrelevant fact; and the investigator who notes only
those things that appear significant is perfectly useless.


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