My Friend the Murderer

Conan Doyle Arthur

Description

Many fans of Arthur Conan Doyle are best acquainted with the author's vast body of detective stories featuring detective Sherlock Holmes. But Doyle also wrote a number of horror and crime-related tales in which the illustrious Holmes doesn't make an appearance. This chilling tale, set in an Australian prison, gives readers a glimpse into the cold heart of a hardened criminal.

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 décembre 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776594115
• Langue: English

Extrait

MY FRIEND THE MURDERER
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ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
 
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My Friend the Murderer First published in 1893 Epub ISBN 978-1-77659-411-5 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77659-412-2 © 2014 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
My Friend the Murderer
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"Number 481 is no better, doctor," said the head-warder, in a slightlyreproachful accent, looking in round the corner of my door.
"Confound 481" I responded from behind the pages of the AustralianSketcher .
"And 61 says his tubes are paining him. Couldn't you do anything forhim?"
"He is a walking drug-shop," said I. "He has the whole Britishpharmacopaæ inside him. I believe his tubes are as sound as yours are."
"Then there's 7 and 108, they are chronic," continued the warder,glancing down a blue slip of paper. "And 28 knocked off workyesterday—said lifting things gave him a stitch in the side. I want youto have a look at him, if you don't mind, doctor. There's 81, too—himthat killed John Adamson in the Corinthian brig—he's been carrying onawful in the night, shrieking and yelling, he has, and no stopping himeither."
"All right, I'll have a look at him afterward," I said, tossing my papercarelessly aside, and pouring myself out a cup of coffee. "Nothing elseto report, I suppose, warder?"
The official protruded his head a little further into the room. "Begpardon, doctor," he said, in a confidential tone, "but I notice as 82has a bit of a cold, and it would be a good excuse for you to visit himand have a chat, maybe."
The cup of coffee was arrested half-way to my lips as I stared inamazement at the man's serious face.
"An excuse?" I said. "An excuse? What the deuce are you talking about,McPherson? You see me trudging about all day at my practise, when I'mnot looking after the prisoners, and coming back every night as tired asa dog, and you talk about finding an excuse for doing more work."
"You'd like it, doctor," said Warder McPherson, insinuating one of hisshoulders into the room. "That man's story's worth listening to if youcould get him to tell it, though he's not what you'd call free in hisspeech. Maybe you don't know who 82 is?"
"No, I don't, and I don't care either," I answered, in the convictionthat some local ruffian was about to be foisted upon me as a celebrity.
"He's Maloney," said the warder, "him that turned Queen's evidence afterthe murders at Bluemansdyke."
"You don't say so?" I ejaculated, laying down my cup in astonishment. Ihad heard of this ghastly series of murders, and read an account ofthem in a London magazine long before setting foot in the colony. Iremembered that the atrocities committed had thrown the Burke and Harecrimes completely into the shade, and that one of the most villainousof the gang had saved his own skin by betraying his companions. "Are yousure?" I asked.
"Oh, yes, it's him right enough. Just you draw him out a bit, andhe'll astonish you. He's a man to know, is Maloney; that's to say, inmoderation;" and the head grinned, bobbed, and disappeared, leaving meto finish my breakfast and ruminate over what I had heard.