“To search London for a sandy-haired young man with freckles—and that’s all we have to go upon—would be sheer lunacy.” “Couldn’t you advertise?” asked Jago hopefully. “What, and call attention to a physical defect as an inducement for a youth to come forward? Probably he spends every spare shilling in buying lotions for the face.” “But the people who laugh at his freckles might answer the advertisement.” “Some hundreds of them would, in the hope of getting a free trip down into Devonshire, but think of the expense. What would the Receiver of the Metropolitan Police say about it?” “Where are we going to now?” asked Jago, giving up the attempt to lift the clouds from his chief’s face. “To the police station, I suppose,” said Richardson wearily. The station sergeant was standing on the steps, gazing down the road; he disappeared as soon as he saw them, apparently to report their arrival to the Superintendent, for Carstairs himself lumbered out on to the threshold.
What do You think about The Dartmoor Enigma (2016)?
