“This ain’t him, then,” said the boy. “He’s thin, but he ain’t tall or dark. He’s got a sandy beard, and he wears spectacles and a wig. I know a wig when I see one,” he added cunningly, “’cause my father wears one. He puts it on a peg to comb it, and he swears at me when I larf.” “My friend had injured his left hand,” pursued Thorndyke. “I dunno about that,” said the youth. “Mr. Barlow nearly always wears gloves; he always wears one on his left hand, anyhow.” “Ah well! I’ll just write him a note on the chance, if y…
Reader notes
Loading reader notes…