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Clouston, J. Storer (Joseph Storer), 1870-1944

"The Man from the Clouds"


"Signalling night before last and a submarine seen yesterday that we
suspect of having been here."
"Under my nose!" I groaned. "A fat lot of good I am!"
"My dear chap, you can't possibly watch the whole coast all night and
every night. This time the signals were seen from the sea as a matter of
fact. But you can note the night, and also the hour, which was 2:45 a.m.,
G.M.T., as near as I can make out from the report. By the way, you had
better set your watch by mine now while we remember. Possibly you may be
able to discover who was out at that hour night before last."
"I may, but it's a thousand to one against it. Give me a thousand
such chances, and I'll get him! That's just about how it seems to
work out so far."
"Haven't you got any new ideas?"
"Without new evidence, what new ideas can one get? And I only got my
first piece of evidence this morning. In fact, I haven't had time to
think it over yet."
"Let's hear it," said my cousin keenly.
"I have been on the track of that old boy with spectacles, as being the
only definite thing to look for so far. I did what Bolton did--went to
see every old man in the place, and this morning I polished off the last
of them and came to the same conclusion as he did. There is no such old
gentleman on the island. But there _was_ one, for a short time one
morning; and he was a fake like Thomas Sylvester Hobhouse; and this
morning I've heard of some one else who saw him!"
"By Gad!" exclaimed my cousin.


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