Cousin talked girl in road.
Girl waited wood. David Hume Frazer met
girl in wood after 1 a.m."
Brett jumped up in instant excitement. Ha placed the two documents on a
table near the window, where the afternoon sun fell directly on them.
"Written by the murderer!" he cried "The result of perusing the evening
papers containing a report of the first proceedings before the
magistrates! The production of an illiterate man, who knew neither the use
of a hyphen nor the correct word to describe the avenue! Not wholly exact
either, if your story be true, Hume."
"My story is true. Helen herself will tell it you, word for word."
"This is most important. Look at that broken small 'c,' and the bent
capital 'D.' The letter 'a,' too, is out of gear, and does not register
accurately. Do you note the irregular spacing in 'market,' 'Frazer,'
'talked'? You got that letter, Winter, and yet you did not test every
Remington type-writer in London."
"Oh, of course it's my fault!"
Mr. Winter's _coup_ has fallen on himself, and he knew it.
"Oh, Winter, Winter! Come to me twice a week from six to seven, Tuesdays
and Fridays, and I will give you a night-school training. Now, I wonder if
that type-writer has been repaired?"
The detective had seldom seen Brett so thoroughly roused. His eyes were
brilliant, his nose dilated as if he could smell the very scent of the
anonymous scribe.
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