Short Stories
"It is a very delicate question," said he. "One hardly likes to
throw suspicion where there are no proofs."
"Let us hear the suspicions. I will look after the proofs."
"I will tell you, then, in a few words the character of the three
men who inhabit these rooms. The lower of the three is Gilchrist,
a fine scholar and athlete, plays in the Rugby team and the crick-
et team for the college, and got his Blue for the hurdles and the
long jump. He is a fine, manly fellow. His father was the notori-
ous Sir Jabez Gilchrist, who ruined himself on the turf. My schol-
ar has been left very poor, but he is hard-working and industri-
ous. He will do well.
"The second floor is inhabited by Daulat Ras, the Indian. He
is a quiet, inscrutable fellow; as most of those Indians are. He is
well up in his work, though his Greek is his weak subject. He is
steady and methodical.
"The top floor belongs to Miles McLaren. He is a brilliant fel-
low when he chooses to workâone of the brightest intellects of
the university; but he is wayward, dissipated, and unprincipled.
He was nearly expelled over a card scandal in his first year. He
has been idling all this term, and he must look forward with
dread to the examination."
"Then it is he whom you suspect?"
"I dare not go so far as that. But, of the three, he is perhaps
the least unlikely."
"Exactly. Now, Mr. Soames, let us have a look at your serv-
ant, Bannister."
He was a little, white-faced, clean-shaven, grizzly-haired
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