Fergus Hume

“ I believed not only Jenny Walton and Bill Tyson will be found in Old Wung’s place, but Mrs. Jerr and Wu Ti.”
Trant shook the boy’s hand warmly. “Good lad! good lad. But if Wu Ti has discarded his Chinese dress he won’t risk going to Wung’s den, knowing that he may be searched for amongst his countrymen.”
“Oh, he’ll go there, sir—if only to smoke opium.”
Dick looked up. “Would a respectable old lady like Mrs. Jerr go also?”
“Is she respectable?” queried Jimmy, meaningly. “I think when we learn who Mrs. Jerr really is, we won’t find her so respectable as you think.” ”

“ It led me—the trail I mean—along all kinds of crooked ways: round ponds, through plantations, up hill paths and down them, always avoiding the main road.”
“Natural enough,” observed Trant, nodding, “I expect Wu Ti guessed that the sight of a pig-tailed Chinaman riding a bike with an old lady long-side him, would lead to them being easily traced.”
“It would,” agreed Jimmy, dryly, “but I rather think, sir, that Wu Ti put on European clothes for the journey.” ”

“ The rest of the afternoon passed quietly, with an inspection of the Airedale, now recovering, a sauntering walk in and out and round about the picturesque village, and a return to the inn for tea and toast, and congratulations to Jimmy on his recovery. “You have pulled round wonderfully, youngster,” Dick told him, while the boy devoured several rounds of buttered toast, and drank several cups of tea.
“Sleep always fills me up with strength,” said Jimmy, smilling gratefully at Aileen, “and it’s thanks to Miss More that I got the sleep. ”

“ I tied Todgers to a tree, took off my clothes and dived. Then”—Jimmy chuckled—“I found what I wanted. The machine lies at the bottom of that pool.”
“No!” Dick was hugely pleased at the success of his protégé.
“Oh, it’s there, right enough sir, as Inspector Trant can see for himself when I lead him to the place. The wheel-marks are plainly to be seen in the mud on the margin of the pool. Besides, I found it in the water.”
“I’ll see about the matter immediately,” said Trant, patting the boy’s shoulder appreciatively, “but go on—go on. What did you do next?” ”

“ Hustings. He was off before I could question him. Pity, as it’s time lost. I want to know of Slanton’s doings in France. Somehow I think that the truth of all these matters is to be found there.”
He was turning to go when Mrs. Webb bustled into the room with a post-card. “For you, Miss,” she said, handing it to Aileen, “it arrived by the second morning post, and went clean out of my head. Sorry, Miss.” Aileen read the card as Mrs. Webb bustled out again—read it slowly, as both the writing and the spelling were execrable. “From Jenny,” she said, and read it out. ”