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GABRIEL SYME was not merely a detective who pretended to be a poet; he was really a poet who had become a detective. Nor was his hatred of anarchy hypocritical. He was one of those who are driven earl
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GABRIEL SYME was not merely a detective who pretended to be a poet; he was really a poet who had become a detective. Nor was his hatred of anarchy hypocritical. He was one of those who are driven earl
AS Syme strode along the corridor he saw the Secretary standing at the top of a great flight of stairs. The man had nev…
ACROSS green fields, and breaking through blooming hedges, toiled six draggled detectives, about five miles out of Lond…
NEXT morning five bewildered but hilarious people took the boat for Dover. The poor old Colonel might have had some cau…
URGING the horses to a gallop, without respect to the rather rugged descent of the road, the horsemen soon regained the…
SYME put the field-glasses from his eyes with an almost ghastly relief. “The President is not with them, anyhow,” he s…
SYME sat down at a cafe table with his companions, his blue eyes sparkling like the bright sea below, and ordered a bot…
“BURGUNDY is a jolly thing,” said the Professor sadly, as he set his glass down. “You don’t look as if it were,” said …
WHEN Gabriel Syme found himself finally established in a chair, and opposite to him, fixed and final also, the lifted e…
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