[Zhongyingmei] Love wife crazy demon

No matter whether it is in the 21st century or the late [-]th century, anyone who runs a business like the one held by the Indians must have surreptitious ties to the police.Of course, the patrols will not be bought by the shady bedbugs, but in private, they don't mind turning a blind eye to some innocuous little things, and occasionally raise their hands to give convenience.

As in the case of Mr. St. Clair, for example, the Indians might not have managed to get Hugh Boone out of jail or out of prison, but had no difficulty in meeting in private, out of sight.It didn't take much effort for them to enter the heavily guarded dungeon. Although the patrolmen they met along the way didn't turn a blind eye to them, they only stared at them with curious eyes and didn't ask a word.

The Indians are a little proud of this, and the cooperation of the patrols obviously made him face in front of the "professor".He graciously led Moriarty down the stairs to Hugh Boone's cell.

The conditions of the police station dungeons at the end of the nineteenth century were naturally not very good. The cells were dark and damp, and the whitewashed corridors were covered with moss.The Indians stopped in front of a single cell. Under the dim kerosene lamp, a figure was curled up on the bedding with his back to them.The Indian turned sideways, glanced at Moriarty, and knocked on the railing: "Hugh Boone?"

The prisoner obviously didn't sleep well, and soon woke up with a start, and sat up towards them.

As a famous beggar in the city of London, "Hugh Boone" obviously has the capital to eat this bowl of food.He has a regular dirty appearance, ugly and distorted, but it seems that he is not born with a disability, but caused by a wide scar that stretches diagonally from the corner of his eye to his chin, which is easily reminiscent of what he has suffered It was a great misfortune, so I felt sympathy for him.He also seems to have studied psychology. The disheveled red hair almost covers the forehead and eyes, making it easier to focus on the miserable lower half of the face, while the combination of bright red hair and a peculiarly shaped ugly face Compositions are also easier to impress.

It only takes one look at him to clearly remember the features that belong to Hugh Boone: dirty, ugly, scars, three teeth protruding from the twisted lips, and a mess of red hair.Because the part he deliberately showed is too easy for people to label in their hearts, and the rest of the really important parts will be subconsciously ignored.Even Mrs. St. Clair, whom he met face to face, could not recognize that the so-called murderer was actually her missing husband.

Moriarty glanced over Mr. St. Clair unhurriedly, with a half-smile on his face.However, Mr. St. Clair showed hesitation. This is a normal phenomenon. After all, he only met the Indian two hours ago, but now the other party has ventured into the cell again, and brought a question that made him instinctive. Someone who sensed danger... He looked at Moriarty, sat up unknowingly, and said in a cautious and respectful tone, "Have I ever met you, sir?"

He seemed to have caught a cold in this terrible environment, and his nasal voice was a bit severe when he spoke.The Indian didn't know how to introduce this mysterious "professor" to him. Hearing that Mr. St. Clair took the initiative to speak, he couldn't help but heaved a sigh of relief, took a step back, and his eyes fell on Moriarty.

Moriarty put his hands in the pockets of his short coat: "—I don't know who you are asking? Hugh Boone? Mr. St. Clair, an innocent gentleman? Neville St. Clair, a young actor who is good at makeup? Or St. Clair, the young reporter of the Evening Standard? Well, the latter may have actually met me, after all I am a well-known figure in the world, and I seem to have written a few best-selling books."

Unlike the caution of the Indians and St. Clair, Moriarty had no intention of lowering his voice. His voice echoed clearly in the dungeon. Hugh Boone, Neville St. Clair...even with the dirt and oil paint You can also see that Mr. St. Clair's face has turned pale.He is not the only prisoner living in the dungeon, not to mention there are guards on duty outside!

The expression of the Indian also changed, and he looked around in panic: "Professor... Please keep your voice low, Professor..." If St. Clair's identity is exposed, what is the meaning of everything he has done?

He couldn't figure out why Moriarty would do this, but he still didn't dare to pronounce Moriarty's name. Even if the Indians were not geniuses, they wouldn't be stupid if they were able to gain a foothold underground in London.He couldn't see through the reality of this professor, but Moriarty knew him well. Coupled with the rumors he had heard, Indians were not willing to easily offend him.

On the contrary, the respect and fear he showed made Mr. St. Clair calm down, his expression changed several times, and finally he showed a wry smile.He didn't quibble, but admitted his identity frankly: "It seems that you already know the secret that I tried my best to hide, but why would a noble person like you be willing to spend a year with me? Spend your time on someone who doesn’t exceed a thousand pounds and is still in prison? If I want to get your help, what price will I have to pay?”

Moriarty was not surprised at his cleverness. Without this cleverness, Hugh Boone would not have been able to earn more than seven hundred pounds a year in this era. Colonel Sebastian Moran, the dirty housekeeper, is only paid £21 a year (although he is often generously given pocket money in addition to this, just like in the [-]st century )... But what's interesting is that none of them can grasp how far this cleverness can go.

He laughed and stared at St. Clair with interest: "I heard that you will get rewards from any kind of people. Your observation skills must be very good, Hugh Boone?"

St. Clair understood at once what Moriarty wanted him to show: "—I judged it from the circumstances, sir. The cell was so—quiet tonight."

Moriarty clapped his hands appreciatively, and the door of a cell not far away opened, and the head of the police station, Inspector Bradstreet, walked out with a chair, and put the chair on it silently. Moriarty behind.A horrified look appeared on the Indian's face, and he finally realized that this matter was beyond his own cleverness.The inspector glanced at him, and he obediently followed the inspector out.

The speculation was confirmed, and St. Clair's face seemed even paler.Moriarty sat down on the wide chair and raised his legs in a relaxed posture.St. Clair stood up and bowed his head respectfully to him.

"Go on, Mr. St. Clair." Moriarty said softly, "I hope you can prove to me that you were arrested because of a moment of confusion, not because of stupidity."

St. Clair took a deep breath: "The letter I asked the Indian to forward to my wife should be in your hands, sir? ... You are right, I was arrested because of a moment of confusion ...I care too much about my family, which is a strength to Neville St. Clair and an Achilles' heel to Hugh Boone. You came with the Indians, from the fresh mud spots at the hems of your trousers From the looks of it, I’m afraid you walked a certain distance and didn’t take a carriage. Then can I judge that you have been to the opium den before coming here, and you didn’t stop the Indian on the way, but waited in his room?”

Moriarty stroked his chin with his finger: "Continue?"

"Before you intercepted that letter, I'm afraid you already knew the result. That letter just made you confirm your speculation." St. Clair continued, his blue eyes quickly glanced at Morrie from under his disheveled red hair. Yati glanced, "There is nothing difficult about this case, it's just that the police are too stupid and have fallen into a misunderstanding...how can an innocent gentleman and a despicable and dirty beggar be the same person? Except for extortion Extortion and murder are very unlikely to be related. Besides, Mr. St. Clair and Mrs. St. Clair have always been a loving husband and wife and lived a happy life. No one would have thought that she would fail to recognize her husband and treat him as a murderer. The murderer who killed her husband... Just relying on newspaper reports, a smart person can come to a correct judgment without leaving home. Since there is no other possibility, no matter how unbelievable this idea is, it will be the truth of the matter .”

Moriarty couldn't help laughing, and he did.His laughter made St. Claire startled, and he showed a slightly uneasy expression: "... sir?"

"I haven't seen any other smart people, but you are indeed very smart." Moriarty crossed his legs and smiled, "This conclusion is very subtle, it should be written in textbooks... If people Everyone can have one-thousandth of your intelligence, and this world may have already entered the interstellar era. Go on, Mr. St. Clair, go on, show off your talents to me as much as you want, and I will put your talents on Anu Weigh it on Bis's scale, so I can figure out how much I should pay you."

St. Clair's brows frowned imperceptibly, a little flattered: "You are too flattering, professor...Anyone, as long as he personally participated in an event and knew the result, it is easy to deduce the process. It is a real genius to draw the right conclusion from just a few clues like you."

Moriarty raised his hand, and a bunch of keys shook at his fingertips, making a pleasant collision sound: "—do you think you can get benefits from me just by flattery?"

"...Sorry, Professor." St. Clair lowered his head anxiously, showing more humility, "I shouldn't waste your time. Please allow me to organize my thoughts."