The constable was explaining with
parental vanity the precocious cleverness of his youngest child, a girl
of two, when Holymead made his appearance, and he became aware that Mr.
Crewe's interest in children was at an end.
"Look at that man," said Crewe, in a sharp imperative tone to the
police-constable, as the K.C. was walking down the path of the Italian
garden to the plantation. "You saw him come in?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you see any difference?"
"No, sir; he's the same man," said Flack, with stolid certainty.
"Anything about him that is different?" continued Crewe.
Police-Constable Flack looked at Crewe in some bewilderment. He was not
a deductive expert, and, as he told his wife afterwards, he did not know
what the detective was "driving at." He took another long look at
Holymead, who was then within a few yards of the plantation on his way
to the gates, and remarked, in a hesitating tone, as though to justify
his failure:
"Well, you see, sir, when he was coming in it was the front view I saw,
now I can only see his back."
But before he had finished speaking Crewe had left him and was following
the K.C. Holymead had gone into the house without a walking-stick, and
had reappeared carrying one on his arm.
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