No, sir, but the facts might be met speciously enough. Suppose that
this man Boone had thrust Neville St. Clair through the window, there
is no human eye which could have seen the deed. What would he do then?
It would of course instantly strike him that he must get rid of the
tell-tale garments. He would seize the coat, then, and be in the act of
throwing it out, when it would occur to him that it would swim and not
sink. He has little time, for he has heard the scuffle downstairs when
the wife tried to force her way up, and perhaps he has already heard
from his Lascar confederate that the police are hurrying up the street.
There is not an instant to be lost. He rushes to some secret hoard,
where he has accumulated the fruits of his beggary, and he stuffs all
the coins upon which he can lay his hands into the pockets to make sure
of the coat s sinking. He throws it out, and would have done the same
with the other garments had not he heard the rush of steps below, and
only just had time to close the window when the police appeared.
It certainly sounds feasible.
Well, we will take it as a working hypothesis for want of a better.
Boone, as I have told you, was arrested and taken to the station, but
it could not be shown that there had ever before been anything against
him. He had for years been known as a professional beggar, but his life
appeared to have been a very quiet and innocent one. There the matter
stands at present, and the questions which have to be solved what
Neville St. Clair was doing in the opium den, what happened to him when
there, where is he now, and what Hugh Boone had to do with his
disappearance are all as far from a solution as ever. I confess that I
cannot recall any case within my experience which looked at the first
glance so simple and yet which presented such difficulties.
While Sherlock Holmes had been detailing this singular series of
events, we had been whirling through the outskirts of the great town
until the last straggling houses had been left behind, and we rattled
along with a country hedge upon either side of us. Just as he finished,
however, we drove through two scattered villages, where a few lights
still glimmered in the windows.
We are on the outskirts of Lee, said my companion. We have touched
on three English counties in our short drive, starting in Middlesex,
passing over an angle of Surrey, and ending in Kent. See that light
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