Explore "The Case of the Black Twenty-Two" by Brian Flynn on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The library door closed upon the three prisoners. Goodall's mouth was set in lines that were grim and hard-the man-hunting game is no occupation for the squeamish. "Clegg and his men will have them in the cells in no time," he declared. "And the papers will sell well to-morrow morning."
But his remark evoked no response from the others-all eyes had gone to Charles Stewart. He had sunk into a chair-the very chair, as it happened, where his father had been sitting when he had met his death-thoroughly overcome by the events of the evening. "Butterworth," he muttered incredulously in a broken voice-"Butterworth! A man that my father would have trusted with anything"-he put his head into his hands and his shoulders shook in his emotion.