He met the
gentleman in here one day. Would you care to have a look at the
hospital, sir?"
Francis spent a quarter of an hour wandering around. When they
left the place, Shopland turned to him with a smile.
"Now, sir," he said, "shall I tell you at whose expense that
place is run?"
"I think I can guess," Francis replied. "I should say that Sir
Timothy Brast was responsible for it."
The detective nodded. He was a little disappointed.
"You know about his collection of broken-down horses in the park
at The Walled House, too, then, I suppose? They come whinnying
after him like a flock of sheep whenever he shows himself."
"I know about them, too," Francis admitted. "I was present
once when he got out of his car, knocked a carter down who was
ill-treating a horse, bought it on the spot and sent it home."
Shopland smiled, inscrutably yet with the air of one vastly
pleased.
"These little side-shows," he said, "are what help to make this,
which I believe will be the greatest case of my life, so
supremely interesting. Any one of my fraternity," he continued,
with an air of satisfaction, "can take hold of a thread and
follow it step by step, and wind up with the handcuffs, as I did
myself with the young man Fairfax. But a case like this, which
includes a study of temperament, requires something more.
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