The Market Place the Market Place

A sudden rage at Kervick flamed up. He clearly had played the fool–clumsily over-plying the simpleton with drink till he had killed him. The shadow of murder indubitably hung over the thing. And then–the crass witlessness of telegraphing! Already, doubtless, the police of Edinborough were talking over the wires with Scotland Yard. A reference to a death in Edinborough, in a telegram from Newcastle–it was incredible that this should escape the eye of the authorities. Any minute might bring a detective through that door there.