"
So we parted.
Early the next morning, I set forth for the little town of Dorking--the
place of Sergeant Cuff's retirement, as indicated to me by Betteredge.
Inquiring at the hotel, I received the necessary directions for finding
the Sergeant's cottage. It was approached by a quiet bye-road, a little
way out of the town, and it stood snugly in the middle of its own plot
of garden ground, protected by a good brick wall at the back and the
sides, and by a high quickset hedge in front. The gate, ornamented
at the upper part by smartly-painted trellis-work, was locked. After
ringing at the bell, I peered through the trellis-work, and saw the
great Cuff's favourite flower everywhere; blooming in his garden,
clustering over his door, looking in at his windows. Far from the crimes
and the mysteries of the great city, the illustrious thief-taker was
placidly living out the last Sybarite years of his life, smothered in
roses!
A decent elderly woman opened the gate to me, and at once annihilated
all the hopes I had built on securing the assistance of Sergeant Cuff.
He had started, only the day before, on a journey to Ireland.
"Has he gone there on business?" I asked.
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