But I am
wandering from the point. Henson failed. But he was going to try again. I
watched him carefully yesterday and managed to see his letters and
telegrams. Then I found that he had telegraphed to James Merritt, whose
address in Moreton Wells I carefully noted down. It did not require much
intellect to grasp the fact that this Merritt was to be the accomplice in
the new effort to steal the picture, Mr. Merritt came over and saw his
chief, with whom he had a long conversation in the grounds. I also forced
myself on Mr. Merritt's notice.
"He was introduced to me as a brand plucked from the burning, a
converted thief who had taken orders of some kind. He is a sorry-looking
scoundrel, and I took particular note of him, especially the horrible
smashed thumb."
"The what!" Bell exclaimed. "A thumb like a snake's head with a little
pink nail on it?"
"The same man. So you happen to have met him?"
"We met on our way here," Bell said, drily. "The rascal sent the dogcart
away from the station so that I should have to walk home, and he attacked
me in the road. But I half-expected something of the kind, and I was
ready for him.
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