It was locked!
In the meanwhile, Nicol Brinn, having secured the door which
communicated with the study, walked out into the lobby where
Hoskins was seated. Hoskins stood up.
"The lady went, Hoskins?"
"She did, sir."
Nicol Brinn withdrew the key from the door of the room in which
Detective Sergeant Stokes was confined. Stokes began banging
wildly upon the panels from within.
"That row will continue," Nicol Brinn said, coldly; "perhaps he
will shout murder from one of the windows. You have only to say
you had no key. I am going out now. The light coat, Hoskins."
Hoskins unemotionally handed coat, hat, and cane to his master
and, opening the front door, stood aside. The sound of a window
being raised became audible from within the locked room.
"Probably," added Nicol Brinn, "you will be arrested."
"Very good, sir," said Hoskins. "Good-night, sir..."
CHAPTER XVII. WHAT HAPPENED TO HARLEY
Some two hours after Paul Harley's examination of Jones, the
ex-parlourmaid, a shabby street hawker appeared in the Strand,
bearing a tray containing copies of "Old Moore's Almanac." He was
an ugly-looking fellow with a split lip, and appeared to have
neglected to shave for at least a week. Nobody appeared to be
particularly interested, and during his slow progression from
Wellington Street to the Savoy Hotel he smoked cigarettes almost
continuously. Trade was far from brisk, and the vendor of
prophecies filled in his spare time by opening car doors, for
which menial service he collected one three-penny bit and several
sixpences.
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