[Cleek: the Man of the Forty Faces by Thomas W. Hanshew]@TWC D-Link book
Cleek: the Man of the Forty Faces

CHAPTER XII
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The chauffeur proved that he could "streak it" as close to the margin of the speed limit as the law dared wink at, even in the case of the well-known red limousine, and in a little over ten minutes pulled up before the park gates.

Narkom jumped out, beckoned Sir Henry to follow him, and together they hurried into the grounds in quest of Cleek.
Where the famous tulip beds made splotches of brilliant colour against the clear emerald of the closely clipped grass they came upon him--a solitary figure in the garb of the elderly seaman, "Captain Burbage, of Clarges Street"-- seated on one of the garden benches, his hands folded over the knob of his thick walking-stick and his chin resting upon them, staring fixedly at the gorgeous flowers and apparently deaf and blind to all else.
He was not, however; for as the superintendent approached he, without altering his gaze or his attitude in the slightest particle, said with the utmost calmness: "Superb, are they not, my friend?
What a pity they should be scentless.

It is as though Heaven had created a butterfly and deprived it of the secret of flight.

Walk on, please, without addressing me.

I am quite friendly with that policeman yonder and I do not wish him to suspect that the elderly gentleman he is so kind to is in any way connected with The Yard.


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