Project Gutenberg's Cleek: the Man of the Forty Faces, by Thomas W. Hanshew

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

Title: Cleek: the Man of the Forty Faces

Author: Thomas W. Hanshew

Release Date: December 12, 2004 [EBook #14332]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CLEEK: THE MAN OF THE FORTY FACES ***

Produced by Suzanne Shell, Beginners Projects, Mary Meehan, and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team.

CLEEK: The Man of the Forty Faces

By THOMAS W. HANSHEW

AUTHOR OF "Cleek of Scotland Yard," "The Riddle of the Night," Etc.

1912

CLEEK: THE MAN OF THE FORTY FACES

PROLOGUE

THE AFFAIR OF THE MAN WHO CALLED HIMSELF HAMILTON CLEEK

The thing wouldn't have happened if any other constable than Collins had
been put on point duty at Blackfriars Bridge that morning. For Collins
was young, good-looking, and--knew it. Nature had gifted him with a
susceptible heart and a fond eye for the beauties of femininity. So when
he looked round and saw the woman threading her way through the maze of
vehicles at "Dead Man's Corner," with her skirt held up just enough to
show two twinkling little feet in French shoes, and over them a
graceful, willowy figure, and over that an enchanting, if rather too
highly tinted face, with almond eyes and a fluff of shining hair under
the screen of a big Parisian hat--that did for him on the spot.

He saw at a glance that she was French--exceedingly French--and he
preferred English beauty, as a rule. But, French or English, beauty is
beauty, and here undeniably was a perfect type, so he unhesitatingly
sprang to her assistance and piloted her safely to the kerb, revelling
in her voluble thanks, and tingling as she clung timidly but rather
firmly to him.

"Sair, I have to give you much gratitude," she said in a pretty, wistful
sort of way, as they stepped on to the pavement. Then she dropped her
hand from his sleeve, looked up at him, and shyly drooped her head, as
if overcome with confusion and surprise at the youth and good looks of
him. "Ah, it is nowhere in the world but Londres one finds the