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Morrison, Arthur, 1863-1945

"Martin Hewitt, Investigator"

"
"And they took nothing, you say?"
"Nothing, sor. But this mornin' I got my worst dose. I was trapesing along
distreshful an' moighty sore, in a street just away off the Strand here,
when I obsarved the docthor-man that was at the Crystial Palace station
a-smilin' an' beckonin' at me from a door.
"'How are ye now?' sez he. 'Well,' sez I, 'I'm moighty sore an' sad
bruised,' sez I. 'Is that so?' sez he. 'Sthep in here.' So I sthepped in,
an' before I could wink there dhropped a crack on the back av me head that
sent me off as unknowledgable as a corrpse. I knew no more for a while,
sor, whether half an hour or an hour, an' thin I got up in a room av the
place, marked 'To Let.' 'Twas a house full av offices, by the same token,
like this. There was a sore bad lump on me head--see ut, sor?--an' the
whole warl' was shpinnin' roun' rampageous. The things out av me pockuts
were lyin' on the flure by me--all barrin' the key av me room. So that the
demons had been through me posseshins again, bad luck to 'em."
"You are quite sure, are you, that everything was there except the key?"
Hewitt asked.


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