Cleek of Scotland Yard: Detective StoriesHanshew, Thomas W.
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Cleek of Scotland Yard: Detective Stories
Hanshew, Thomas W.
Cleek, Hamilton (Fictitious character) -- Fiction; Detective and mystery stories
He uncorked the bottle, poured some of the Spirit of Wine on the
sponge and rubbed the animal's brown flank. The dark colour came
away, the sorrel hide and the white splotch began to appear, and
before you could say Jack Robinson, the major and Lady Mary had
their arms about the animal's neck and were blubbing like a couple of
children.
"Oh, my bully girl! Oh, my spiffing girl! Oh, Mary, isn't it
clinking, dear? The Lassie--the Highland Lassie--her own bonny self."
"Yes, her own bonny self, Major," said Cleek "and you'd never have
had a moment's worry over her if that faithful fellow upstairs had
been suffered to get back here that night and to tell you about it in
the morning. I've had a little talk with--oh, well, somebody who is
in a position to give me information that corroborates my own
little 'shots' at the matter (I'll tell you all about that later
on), and so am able to tell you a thing or two that you ought to
have known before this! I don't know whether Lieutenant Chadwick's
coming here and prying about had any wish to do harm to the horse at
the back of it or not. I only know that Farrow thought it had,
and he played this little trick to block the game and to throw dust
into the eyes of anybody that attempted to get at her. What he did
then was to dye her so that she might be mistaken for Chocolate
Maid, then to take Chocolate Maid over to his own stable and hide
her there until the time came to start for Epsom. That's what he
wanted the pail of water for, Major--to mix the dye and to apply
it. I half suspected it from the beginning, but I became sure of it
when I found that scrap of paper in the bedding of the box. It
was still wet--a bit of the label from the dye-bottle which came off
in the operation. Between the poor chap's fingers I found stains of
the dye still remaining. Spirit of Wine would have removed it, but
washing in water wouldn't. Pardon, your ladyship? When did I begin
to suspect that Farrow was at the bottom of it? Oh, when first I
heard of the poisoned dog. Nobody ever heard it bark when the
poisoner approached the stables. That, of course, meant that the
person who administered the poison must have been some one with whom
it was familiar, and also some one who was already inside the
place, since even the first approaching step of friend or foe would
have called forth one solitary bark at least. Farrow didn't do the
thing by halves, you see. He meant it to look like a genuine case of
horse stealing to outsiders, and killing the dog gave it just that
touch of actuality which carries conviction. As for the rest--the
major must tell you that in private, your ladyship. The rest of this
little matter is for men alone."
Lady Mary bowed and passed out into the fast coming dusk; and, in
the stable the major, Cleek and Narkom stood together, waiting until
she was well beyond earshot.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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