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    北京28最新分析‘Try one of these. They’re special Brazilian cigarettes. I suppose we may smoke here?’


    ‘On Tuesday. Yes, monsieur.’
    ‘Now for M. Alphonse Le Gautier, the wine merchant,’ said the former as he hailed a taxi.
    On the third day there was another letter from Clifford. The lawyer wrote that he had been greatly struck by the intelligence of the carter who had carried about the cask in London. Surprised at so superior a man holding such a position, he had brought him to his house in the hope of learning his history. And there he had made a discovery of the highest importance, and which, he thought, would lead them direct to the end of their quest. The carter, John Hill, had been quite ready to tell his story, which was as follows: Until four years previously Hill had been a constable in the Metropolitan police. He had a good record, and, he had believed, a future. Then he had had an unfortunate difference with his superior officer. Hill did not give the particulars, but Clifford understood it was a private matter and concerned a girl. But it led to a row during hours of duty, in which Hill admitted having entirely forgotten himself. He had been dismissed, and, after a long and weary search, could find no better job than he now held.


    1.‘M. le Chef de la S?reté?’ he asked, and, as M. Chauvet bowed him to a chair, continued,—
    2.‘Thanks, old chap,’ returned the doctor, accepting the cigarette the other offered, and sinking back into a deep, leather-lined arm-chair. ‘But I’m afraid there won’t be much pleasure about my visit. It’s business, and nasty business at that. Have you a few minutes to spare?’
    3.‘If Boirac should see the thing, there’s no use in my shoving into the limelight,’ he said to himself. ‘I’ll drop Georges La Touche for a day or two and try the St. Antoine.’
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