"
"No, of course not. Eighteen months of settled conviction are not to be
dispelled in an instant. But accept my theory. This man, the guilty man,
must have resided in Stowmarket for some hours, if not days. Many people
saw him. He could not live in Sleagill, where even the village dogs would
suspect him. But the addle-headed police, ready to handcuff David Hume,
never thought of inquiring about strangers who came and went at Stowmarket
in those days. Stowmarket is a metropolis, a wilderness of changeful
beings, to a country policeman. It has a market-day, an occasional drunken
man--life is a whirl in Stowmarket. Fortunately, people have memories. At
that time you did not wear a beard, Hume."
"No," was the reply, "though I never told you that."
"Of course you told me, many times. Did not your acquaintances fail to
recognise you? Had not Mrs. Capella to look twice at you before she knew
you? Now, Winter, start out. Ascertain, in each hotel in the town, if they
had any strange guests about the period of the murder. There is a remote
chance that you may learn something. Describe Mr. Hume without a beard,
and hint at a reward if information is forthcoming. Money quickens the
agricultural intellect."
The detective, doubting much, obeyed. Hume, asking if there was any reason
why he should not drive back to Sleagill for an hour before dinner, was
sarcastically advised to go a good deal farther.
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