Sucks books

Tramping back under the stars, his thoughts drifted to
the auburn girl of the moor. He was seeking to recollect how she had
been dressed. He remembered everything about her with extraordinary
vividness, from the crown of her glowing hair to her twinkling feet,
in brown shoes with steel or silver buckles; but he could not
instantly see her garments. Then they came back to him--the
rose-coloured jumper and the short, silvery skirts.
Twice afterward, during the evening hour, Brendon again tramped to
Foggintor, but he was not rewarded by any glimpse of the girl; but
as the picture of her dimmed a little, there happened a strange and
apparently terrible thing, and in common with everybody else his
thoughts were distracted. To the detective's hearty annoyance and
much against his will, there confronted him a professional problem.
Though the sudden whisper of murder that winged with amazing speed
through that little, uplifted church-town was no affair of his,
there fell out an incident which quickly promised to draw him into
it and end his holiday before the time.


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