Lord of the Mysteries - Chapter 412 - Letter

Stanton, so I received the bulk of the bounty,” Klein concluded. The two officers in charge of the interrogation jotted down the information and asked if anyone could prove it. Klein gave them the names and addresses of Stuart, Kaslana, and the other private detectives. “Very good, Mr.

Moriarty. Your answer is detailed enough.”

A police officer stopped writing and asked, “How long did you spend in Isengard Stanton’s home today?

I mean, from the time you entered to the time we found you.”

Klein thought for a moment and, without consulting Lawyer Jurgen, directly replied, “About two to three minutes.”

What he said was based on what he truly felt. Another police officer raised his eyebrows and said, “Many residents nearby were able to confirm that you entered Isengard Stanton’s house around 2:10 p. m. We arrived at the scene at 2:28 p. m. , which is to say, you were in the house for about eighteen minutes, not two or three minutes!

“What exactly were you doing during this lengthy period of time?

Why didn’t you leave and call the police?”

Eighteen minutes passed?

Klein frowned suddenly. He felt that the stalemate he had with the existence which silently watched him lasted for slightly more than a minute. How did it take a full eighteen minutes?

Was it the strange feeling of being watched that confused my grasp of time, or was it something else?

Is it the Beyonder powers of the other party?

If it really was the owner of the Devil dog, he would at least be at Sequence 6, with a high probability of being Sequence 5. While Klein pondered, Jurgen leaned forward, ready to accuse the police of being posing leading questions. That was not a very good reason, but he simply wanted to use this method to interrupt the pace of the interrogation and delay the unfavorable question for his client. Haftada 20. 000 ₺'den başlayan fiyatlarla kazanın. Open At this moment, Klein raised his hand to rub his forehead.

“What I just said was the truth.

Based on what I felt, only two or three minutes had passed after I entered Detective Isengard Stanton’s house.”

Upon saying that, he emphasized, “Yes, based on what I felt.”

The two officers exchanged looks before writing the statement down. After a moment of silence, the officer who had asked the question said, “During those eighteen minutes, a servant who came back from outside the house rang the doorbell, but no one answered, so he looked in through the oriel window and saw the floor full of corpses and that you were standing in the doorway of the activity room. “He was terrified, running to the police station like a madman, and many passers-by and some residents had confirmed that.”

Klein ignored the look in Lawyer Jurgen’s eyes and shook his head. “I didn’t hear the doorbell.”

The two officers exchanged looks again, but they made no comment. All they did was jot down what was said. They asked questions about other details, and Klein, who had done nothing and was free from guilt, answered every question truthfully. At the end, he couldn’t help but ask, “Did you find Detective Isengard Stanton?

It didn’t seem like the activity room had a corpse. He’s likely to be still alive, right. ” A police officer used a pen to tap on the table and said, “That’s one of the things we’re wondering about. Only the activity room in the house had signs of fighting, and the windows were closed, and they hadn’t been opened for days. As you know, it’s very normal to do so during Backlund’s autumn and winter seasons. “The attacker and Mr.

Isengard Stanton left the room in a strange way, and we found no trace of him anywhere else in the house or in the neighborhood, not even blood.”

Without waiting for Klein to speak, he questioned before answering his own question, “You definitely wish to mention the activity room’s door and the door to the house, but many people have confirmed that there was no pursuit nearby, nor was there anyone taken hostage or a corpse being moved away.”

Maybe it really happened in the middle of the night?

Maybe they were able to go through walls?

Klein silently offered other possibilities in his mind, and he silently prayed. May the Goddess bless Detective Isengard Stanton and that he escaped the disaster—the Evernight Goddess was the Empress of Disaster and Horror. When the interrogation was over, Klein was remanded in a small room, and the police sent someone to pick up the letter as evidence with Lawyer Jurgen at 15 Minsk Street. It wasn’t until the evening that Klein was finally admitted bail, posting a sum of fifty pounds. “It’s much more expensive than the last time.

It’s difficult for the average private detective to produce that much cash in a short period of time.”

After leaving the Chissak Police Station, Klein pulled up the collar of his tweed coat and complained to Jurgen. Jurgen still wore a professional and staid expression. “The situation was favorable towards you the last time, but this time, much of the evidence points to you.”

He stopped a rental carriage, turned his head to the side, and looked at Klein. “Sherlock, I’m your lawyer.

Before you answer the policeman’s questions, it’s best that you communicate with me, even if it’s just sending me a look. “Do not speak carelessly even if you feel that there are no problems.

Ordinary people who haven’t been trained will easily say things that trip them up.”

This. I’m used to fabricating my own stories and solving my own problems. Klein recalled what had just happened and gave a hollow laugh. “Okay, I will keep that in mind.”

Without another word, Jurgen boarded the carriage. Klein sat down across him and thought about Detective Isengard Stanton’s attack. As he was thinking, he suddenly heard the rumbling sound of his stomach. It’s already past my normal dinner time. Klein took out his gold pocket watch and opened it. He didn’t want to waste any more energy preparing food, so he began to think about which restaurant was worth looking forward to. At that moment, Jurgen raised his eyelids and said, “I’ve asked my grandmother to prepare dinner for three.”

“How can I impose on you?”

Klein was startled for a moment before he laughed. “Mrs.

Doris’s cooking skills are always something to look forward to.”

By the time they got back to Minsk Street in Cherwood Borough, the sky was completely dark and the street lamps were even brighter than the indistinct red moon in the sky. After having dinner at the Jurgen’s house and having fun with the cat, Klein strolled back to Unit 15 in the cold, damp air. He habitually rummaged through the letterbox and pulled out a copy of the Backlund Evening News that had just arrived. Klein opened the door with the newspaper in hand and just as he put the cane away, he realized something was wrong.

His spiritual intuition as a Seer told him that a stranger had entered his house!

Was it the police who came to collect the evidence?

Klein looked around warily and suddenly saw a letter on the coffee table. There should have only been newspapers sitting there!

Klein entered the living room warily, in preparation for an attack. He moved closer to the coffee table, and during the entire process, the surroundings were completely silent without the slightest abnormality. Glancing down at the letter, Klein first took out a pair of black gloves and wore them before opening the letter. There was a thin piece of paper inside the envelope. After unfolding it, a dark red color was immediately reflected in Klein’s eyes, and the faint smell of blood lingered around his nose.

Words were written on the piece of paper with coagulated blood: “All of you will die!”

This. Is it really the owner of the Devil dog?

Is he taking revenge on the people who caused his subordinate’s death?

This is truly a case of bullying the weak and fearing the strong. Why not directly find the Nighthawks responsible for the clean-up operation?

Klein’s heart tightened, and many thoughts flashed through his mind. But he quickly dismissed his complaint. It was very normal to exact vengeance on the person that one could handle. Just like his past few months in Backlund, he had never thought of finding Ince Zangwill, but he never gave up his pursuit of Lanevus. After looking around again, Klein gradually found that this matter was a little confusing. Isn’t he afraid of being caught by the official Beyonders by using such an ostentatious method to exact revenge?

Is this the “acting” requirement for his potion?

Or, rather, because Detective Isengard Stanton escaped, he knows that he can’t get rid of his targets in secret, so he can only switch his methods. But what’s the reason behind this method?

Also, when I was at Detective Stanton’s house, he was clearly watching me. Why didn’t he make a move?

Was he apprehensive towards an ordinary private detective like me?

No, impossible. Does he know that I’m a Beyonder?

Possible. Due to the side effect of me getting lost due to the Master Key, I had met with the Devil dog. It saw my body and how I looked like. Although I was disguised, I can’t be certain that a Devil can see through it. Perhaps, after that incident, it was able to present the scene to its owner in some way. However, at that time, I couldn’t even defeat the Devil dog, so I could only run away pathetically. What is there to be afraid of?

Unless he’s worried about something else, such as the injured Isengard Stanton who might be hiding nearby?

Did he write to me very openly, thinking that I, a wild Beyonder, wouldn’t dare to seek help from the officials?

With his head filled with questions, Klein inspected the house and walked all the way to the second floor. When he opened the bedroom door, another letter came into view. The letter lay quietly on the desk, as though it had been waiting for him for a very long time. Klein opened the letter and saw a line of dark red words that were drawn: “You’re next.”

Next. How arrogant. Klein couldn’t help but sigh. At this moment, he suddenly had a thought. He raised his head and looked outside the window. Across him were a few two-story houses with their lights on. The glow of the street lamps fell on their outer walls, forming a crisscrossing zone. All of a sudden, the shadows in the areas squirmed and twisted, forming a black shadow in a tailcoat. The shadow raised its right hand, gesturing in the shape of a gun, and pointed it at Klein. Then, it retracted its arm and blew at the “gun’s muzzle.”