Narkom of Scotland Yard. My name is--Cleek--Hamilton Cleek. I
have your permission to continue?"
A murmur went up round the crowded court room. The judge nodded. He
needed no introduction to Cleek.
"The gentlemen of the jury will be seated," declared the court, "the
clerk will call Hamilton Cleek as a witness."
This formality accomplished, the judge indicated that he, himself, would
question this crucial eleventh-hour witness.
"Mr. Cleek," he began, "you say this man is innocent. We will hear your
story."
Cleek motioned to Dollops, who stood at the back of the court, and
instantly the lad pushed his way through the crowd to his master's side,
carrying the long, ungainly burden in his arms. Meanwhile, at the back of
the room a commotion had occurred. The magic name of that most magical of
men--Hamilton Cleek, detective--had wrought what Cleek had known it
would. Someone was pushing for the door with all the strength that was in
him, but already the key had turned, and Hammond, as guardian, held up
his hand.
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