ing them. At the same time he had had infinite experience in questioning his fellow-creatures; and he knew when they were telling the truth. It seemed to him that Pollyooly was telling the truth.
He scratched his head with a puzzled air, and said, "Do you do anything else besides keep house for Mr. Rufin and sell violets for Captain Croome?"
"I'm Mr. Gedge-Tomkins' laundress. I get his breakfast and clean his rooms. They're across the landing," said Pollyooly.
The Inspector sat upright in his chair. He knew the name of that eminent criminal counsel very well indeed. He had, indeed, been cross-examined by him, for the most part in a furious bellow; and he had by no means forgotten that cross-examination. If Pollyooly's story were true, it behooved him to walk warily indeed in the matter of a child who enjoyed such a powerful employer.
He scratched his head again and said doubtfully, "They look uncommon clean, both of them."
"They gets more when they're clean—in this neighborhood," said the policeman with an air of wide experience. He was still wholly incredulous.
