[The Clue of the Twisted Candle by Edgar Wallace]@TWC D-Link book
The Clue of the Twisted Candle

CHAPTER XVII
14/22

Besides we've still got a chance of pulling of the big thing, Harry.

I reckon she's good for a hundred or two, anyway." At six o'clock on the following afternoon, a man dressed in a dark overcoat, with a soft felt hat pulled down over his eyes stood nonchalantly by the curb near where the buses stop at Regent Street slapping his hand gently with a folded copy of the Westminster Gazette.
That none should mistake his Liberal reading, he stood as near as possible to a street lamp and so arranged himself and his attitude that the minimum of light should fall upon his face and the maximum upon that respectable organ of public opinion.

Soon after six he saw the girl approaching, out of the tail of his eye, and strolled off to meet her.
To his surprise she passed him by and he was turning to follow when an unfriendly hand gripped him by the arm.
"Mr.Fisher, I believe," said a pleasant voice.
"What do you mean ?" said the man, struggling backward.
"Are you going quietly!" asked the pleasant Superintendent Mansus, "or shall I take my stick to you' ?" Mr.Fisher thought awhile.
"It's a cop," he confessed, and allowed himself to be hustled into the waiting cab.
He made his appearance in T.X.'s office and that urbane gentleman greeted him as a friend.
"And how's Mr.Fisher!" he asked; "I suppose you are Mr.Fisher still and not Mr.Harry Gilcott, or Mr.George Porten." Fisher smiled his old, deferential, deprecating smile.
"You will always have your joke, sir.

I suppose the young lady gave me away." "You gave yourself away, my poor Fisher," said T.X., and put a strip of paper before him; "you may disguise your hand, and in your extreme modesty pretend to an ignorance of the British language, which is not creditable to your many attainments, but what you must be awfully careful in doing in future when you write such epistles," he said, "is to wash your hands." "Wash my hands!" repeated the puzzled Fisher.
T.X.

nodded.
"You see you left a little thumb print, and we are rather whales on thumb prints at Scotland Yard, Fisher." "I see.


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