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Chapter I. I Go to Styles
Heusedtosaythatallgooddetectiveworkwasamerematterofmethod.Mysystemisbasedonhis—thoughofcourseIhaveprogressedratherfurther.Hewasafunnylittleman,agreatdandy,butwonderfullyclever.”
“Likeagooddetectivestorymyself,”remarkedMissHoward.“Lotsofnonsensewritten,though.Criminaldiscoveredinlastchapter.Everyonedumbfounded.Realcrime—you’dknowatonce.”
“Therehavebeenagreatnumberofundiscoveredcrimes,”Iargued.
“Don’tmeanthepolice,butthepeoplethatarerightinit.Thefamily.Youcouldn’treallyhoodwinkthem.They’dknow.”
“Then,”Isaid,muchamused,“youthinkthatifyouweremixedupinacrime,sayamurder,you’dbeabletospotthemurdererrightoff?”
“OfcourseIshould.Mightn’tbeabletoproveittoapackoflawyers.ButI’mcertainI’dknow.I’dfeelitinmyfingertipsifhecamenearme.”
“Itmightbea‘she’,”Isuggested.
“Might.Butmurder’saviolentcrime.Associateitmorewithaman.”
“Notinacaseofpoisoning.”Mrs.Cavendish’sclearvoicestartledme.“Dr.Bauersteinwassayingyesterdaythat,owingtothegeneralignoranceofthemoreuncommonpoisonsamongthemedicalprofession,therewereprobablycountlesscasesofpoisoningquiteunsuspected.”
“Why,Mary,whatagruesomeconversation!”criedMrs.Inglethorp.“Itmakesmefeelasifagoosewerewalkingovermygrave.Oh,there’sCynthia!”
AyounggirlinV.A.D.uniformranlightlyacrossthelawn.
“Why,Cynthia,youarelateto-day.ThisisMr.
