"Never'll get that out o' your head, will you?"
"Which key?"
"Th' round-headed one."
Forbes drew the key aside and laid it evenly against the one Crawford
had left in his keeping.
"By George!"
"What's th' matter?"
"He's come back!"--in a whisper.
"You're a keen one! Ye-up; Crawford's valet Mason is visiting in town."
CHAPTER X
There are many threads and many knots in a net; these can not be thrown
together haphazard, lest the big fish slip through. At the bottom of
the net is a small steel ring, and here the many threads and the many
knots finally meet. Forbes and Haggerty (who, by the way, thinks I'm a
huge joke as a novelist) and the young man named Webb recounted this
tale to me by threads and knots. The ring was of Kitty Killigrew, for
Kitty Killigrew, by Kitty Killigrew, to paraphrase a famous line.
At one of the quieter hotels--much patronized by touring
Englishmen--there was registered James Thornden and man. Every
afternoon Mr. Thornden and his man rode about town in a rented touring
car. The man would bundle his master's knees in a rug and take the
seat at the chauffeur's side, and from there direct the journey.
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