" "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. ” “The inference is, then,” the detective said smoothly, “that this man obtained admission to your rooms by means of a false key, that he burnt some papers here and shot himself within a few moments of your return. I’ll get in trouble. Such ambitions as he had were stereotyped and material. " He then closed the lantern, mounted without much difficulty upon the roof, and proceeded cautiously along the tiles. For when this Joan said it, I had a memory. He learnt that his sister was privately married—the name or rank of her husband could not be ascertained—and living in retirement in an obscure dwelling in the Borough, where she had given birth to a son.
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