The Final Solution: A Story Of Detection - Plot & Excerpts
His gait was dreamy and he swung a daisy as he went. With each step the boy dragged his toes in the rail bed, as if measuring out his journey with careful ruled marks of his shoetops in the gravel. It was midsummer, and there was something about the black hair and pale face of the boy against the green unfurling flag of the downs beyond, the rolling white eye of the daisy, the knobby knees in their short pants, the self-important air of the handsome gray parrot with its savage red tail feather, that charmed the old man as he watched them go by. Charmed him, or aroused his sense-a faculty at one time renowned throughout Europe-of promising anomaly.The old man lowered the latest number of The British Bee Journal to the rug of Shetland wool that was spread across his own knobby but far from charming knees, and brought the long bones of his face closer to the window-pane. The tracks-a spur of the Brighton-Eastbourne line, electrified in the late twenties with the consolidation of the Southern Railway routes-ran along an embankment a hundred yards to the north of the cottage, between the concrete posts of a wire fence.
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