DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.22217#0053
THE MURDERED TAILOR'S WATCH. 41
' hidden safely there, and the whole tallied so closely that I
was at last sure that I was on the right track. These additional
gleanings made me revert to my anonymous correspondent in
the west. It was scarcely likely that I should be able to trace
him ; but he spoke in his note of the guilty one being a person
or persons outside of himself—known to him. This lessened
my interest in him personally, but made me think that if I
visited the town I might get hold of O'Doyle himself, which
would be quite as good, if not better. I accordingly went to
the place, in which there is a public prison, and as a first step
called on the police superintendent. An examination of the
books at length sent me in the direction of the prison, in which
a man answering the description, and having O'Doyle for one
of his namss, had been confined on a nine months' sentence
tor robbery. I w7as now in high spirits, and quite sure that in
the prisoner I should recognise the O'Doyle I wanted ; but on
reaching the place I found that a more imperative and inexor-
able officer had been there before me in shape of death.
Immediately on getting the answer I made the inquiry, " Did
he make any statement or confession before he died ?" This
was not easily answered, and before it could be, with satisfac-
tion, a number of the officials had to be questioned, and then
I found that O'Doyle had been attended, as is usual, in his
last moments by a Catholic priest.
_ This gentleman was still in the town, though not stationed
m the Prison, and knowing something of the vows of a priest,
I despaired at once of extracting anything from him, hut
became possessed of a desire to have a look at his handwrit-
lng. Accordingly I sent him a polite note requesting him to
send me word when he would be at liberty to see me for a few
minutes' conversation. I fully expected to get a written note
m reply, however short, but instead I got a message delivered
Dy the servant girl, to the effect that her master was at home,
and would see me now. I grinned and bore it, though it is
n°t pleasant to feel eclipsed in cunning by anyone. I went
with the girl, and found the priest, a pale, hard-worked look-
mg man, leaning back in his chair exhausted and silent, and
certainly looking as if he at least did not eat the bread of
idleness. I felt rather small as I introduced myself and
ran over the case that had brought me there, he listening
to the whole with closed eyes, and a face as immovable as
that of a statue. When I had finished there was an awkward
pause. I had not exactly asked anything, but it was jm»
' hidden safely there, and the whole tallied so closely that I
was at last sure that I was on the right track. These additional
gleanings made me revert to my anonymous correspondent in
the west. It was scarcely likely that I should be able to trace
him ; but he spoke in his note of the guilty one being a person
or persons outside of himself—known to him. This lessened
my interest in him personally, but made me think that if I
visited the town I might get hold of O'Doyle himself, which
would be quite as good, if not better. I accordingly went to
the place, in which there is a public prison, and as a first step
called on the police superintendent. An examination of the
books at length sent me in the direction of the prison, in which
a man answering the description, and having O'Doyle for one
of his namss, had been confined on a nine months' sentence
tor robbery. I w7as now in high spirits, and quite sure that in
the prisoner I should recognise the O'Doyle I wanted ; but on
reaching the place I found that a more imperative and inexor-
able officer had been there before me in shape of death.
Immediately on getting the answer I made the inquiry, " Did
he make any statement or confession before he died ?" This
was not easily answered, and before it could be, with satisfac-
tion, a number of the officials had to be questioned, and then
I found that O'Doyle had been attended, as is usual, in his
last moments by a Catholic priest.
_ This gentleman was still in the town, though not stationed
m the Prison, and knowing something of the vows of a priest,
I despaired at once of extracting anything from him, hut
became possessed of a desire to have a look at his handwrit-
lng. Accordingly I sent him a polite note requesting him to
send me word when he would be at liberty to see me for a few
minutes' conversation. I fully expected to get a written note
m reply, however short, but instead I got a message delivered
Dy the servant girl, to the effect that her master was at home,
and would see me now. I grinned and bore it, though it is
n°t pleasant to feel eclipsed in cunning by anyone. I went
with the girl, and found the priest, a pale, hard-worked look-
mg man, leaning back in his chair exhausted and silent, and
certainly looking as if he at least did not eat the bread of
idleness. I felt rather small as I introduced myself and
ran over the case that had brought me there, he listening
to the whole with closed eyes, and a face as immovable as
that of a statue. When I had finished there was an awkward
pause. I had not exactly asked anything, but it was jm»