That goes without saying. But the thing to find out
is what they're there for to hide. When you've discovered that, you'll
have got half way to the truth, and the rest will follow as a matter of
course.... What's that, Mr. Narkom? Yes, I'll take the case, Sir Nigel.
My name's Cleek--Hamilton Cleek, at your service. Now let's hear the
thing all over again, please. I've one or two questions I'd like to ask."
Merriton left Scotland Yard an hour later, lighter in heart than he
had been for some time--ever since, in fact, Dacre Wynne's tragic
disappearance had cast such a gloom over his life's happiness. He had
unburdened his soul to Cleek--absolutely. And Cleek had treated the
confession with a decent sort of respect which was enough to win any chap
over to him. Merriton in fact had found in Cleek a friend as well as a
detective. He had been a little astonished at his general get-up and
appearance, but Merriton had heard of his peculiar birthright, and felt
that the man himself was capable of almost anything. Certainly he proved
full of sympathetic understanding.
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