An excellent old gentleman, who has been dining out or something,
has a glimpse at night, on a crowded pavement, of a man who looks like a
friend of his youth. Very well. The excellent old gentleman tells you of
that, and it impresses you. _You_ walk on the same pavement the next
evening--I won't emphasise the fact of its being after dinner, though I
daresay it was--"
"It was."
"--_You_ have a glimpse of a man who looks--well, something like me;
and you instantly conclude, 'Ah! the Courtney person--the friend of Dr
Rippon's youth!--and, surely, some relative of my friend Julius!' Next
day this hospital case turns up, and because the description of its
author, given by more or less unobservant persons, fits the person you
saw, _argal_, you jump to the conclusion that the three are one! Is your
conclusion clear upon the evidence? Is it inevitable? Is it necessary?
Is it not forced?"
"Well," began Lefevre.
"It is bad detective business," broke in Julius, "though it may be good
friendship. You have thought there was trouble in this for me, and you
wished to give me warning of it.
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