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Fletcher, J. S. (Joseph Smith), 1863-1935

"Scarhaven Keep"

And presently the detectives looked at one another and
their leader turned to Sir Cresswell.
"If these people--as seems certain--have escaped into this quarter of the
town," he said, "there'll have to be a regular hunt for them! I've known
a man who was badly wanted stow himself away here for weeks. If Chatfield
has accomplices down here in the Warren, he can hide himself and
whoever's with him for a long time--successfully. We'll have to get a lot
of men to work."
"But I say!" exclaimed Gilling. "You don't mean to tell me that three
people--one a woman--could get away through these courts and alleys,
packed as they are, without being seen? Come now!"
The detectives smiled indulgently.
"You don't know these folks," said one of them, inclining his head
towards a squalid street at the end of which they had all gathered. "But
they know _us_. It's a point of honour with them never to tell the truth
to a policeman or a detective. If they saw those three, they'd never
admit it to us--until it's made worth their while."
"Get it made worth their while, then!" exclaimed Gilling, impatiently.
"All in due course, sir," said the official voice. "Leave it to us."
The amateur searchers after the iniquitous recognized the futility of
their own endeavours in that moment, and went away to discuss matters
amongst themselves, while the detectives proceeded leisurely, after their
fashion, into the Warren as if they were out for a quiet constitutional
in its salubrious byways.


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