Mage Joan

The slaves who had luckily left Moriarty’s laboratory had some vaccinia injections, some had been vaccinated, and all had immunity to smallpox virus. Compared with other slaves who had not vaccinated, they were on the market. Is more valuable and more popular with buyers.

It’s not difficult for Joan to imagine that the tutor can sell a slave that has lost its useful value and get a large amount of cash.

Perhaps it was because of this income that he had the ability to purchase 50 new slaves to carry out the second round of experiments.

More experimental samples can provide richer observation data and lay a solid foundation for Professor Moriarty's virus prevention theory.

His method of recycling the experimental body has the highest cost performance and is not wasted at all. It is both rational and legal.

But Joan vaguely felt that behind this series of sophisticated and efficient calculations, some chilling signs were revealed.

During this time, Master Harry often visited Professor Moriarty.

Joan couldn't quite figure it out. How could Master Harry be passionate about making friends with his dad's fiancee's ex-boyfriend? Isn't he embarrassed?

Perhaps under the influence of Master Harry, Professor Moriarty went to the club attached to the "Spa Palace" Hotel every afternoon, drinking tea, playing cards, playing a few games of billiards, and spending the lazy summer afternoon.

Joan, a student, also shouldered a new errand—accompanying his instructor to participate in club activities in the health resort.

Fortunately, it’s different from the past. After more than a year of social training, especially by Mrs. Josephine’s careful training, Joanne still doesn’t like to participate in social activities. At least the symptoms of social disorders are not as serious as before. .

Participating in club activities these days, in addition to eating and drinking, Joan also has to be responsible for having a good time with the instructor and Master Harry.

Joan played a good hand.

Especially when he and the mentor are sitting at the same table, the fate of the dealer or other players is doomed-either being "washed out" or already "washed out".

The edge is too strong, not good.

Within a few days, the club’s card lovers, including professional gamblers, knew that both the master and the apprentice had a perverted brain.

Everyone knows that they are counting cards, but there is no way.

No one wants to participate in a must-have game. Joan and Professor Mogliati have won too much. As a result, no one wants to play with them.

According to Joan, in this case, you might as well pretend to lose a few, give some comfort to the players, and see that there is hope of winning, you will no longer exclude him and his mentor.

However, Professor Moriarty seemed to disdain to do so, simply stopped playing cards, and his interest shifted to billiards.

The professor's ball skills are as good as the card skills.

Joan didn't know how to play billiards, but in order to accompany his instructor to practice the ball, he was forced to learn both hands, and his playing skills improved greatly.

Play ten innings, and if you are lucky, you can win one or two innings.

On the afternoon of May 28, as usual, Joan accompanied his tutor to play billiards in the hotel club.

Professor Moriarty succeeded in teeing off, and then he scored goals again and again. Counting the time to think about the stroke, Joanne could only sit on the sidelines for a long time.

Nothing happened, he held the club and listened to the guests drinking tea and chatting.

The hot topic these days is the mysterious murder that happened in the wetland not long ago.

It has been five days since the day that Sheriff Gleason, the sheriff of Hot Springs, discovered Mr. Harel Lancashire's body, but the case has not made any progress.

There is currently no clue about the murderer, but the travellers in the health resort generally have a mysterious consensus-firmly believe that the murderer is among them.

Joanne can only think that these guys have read more detective novels serialized in newspaper columns, confusing the story with reality.

Just as Joan was lethargic, the club door suddenly opened, and a strange man walked in with a tall, mighty black hound.

The club has an unwritten rule.

The kittens and puppies in the arms of the ladies can be brought into the club, but they are also pets, and the large hounds domesticated by men are not allowed to enter the door.

The waiter saw that someone was violating the rules, and greeted him to remind the new guest not to bring his big dog indoors, so as not to startle other guests.

The new guest ignored the waiter's prompts, just looked at him coldly, raised his hand and flicked it aside, and tossed this young man who was higher than himself.

The waiter is also a well-informed character. When he looks at the other party's posture, he knows that it is not easy to provoke him.

The little conflict in front of the club attracted Joan's attention and looked at the strange man carrying a hound curiously.

The opponent looks in his early 30s, not taller than Joan, but with a broad shoulder and a wide body, giving the impression of being short and steady.

The unfamiliar man was wearing a stand collar windbreaker, wearing a fedora, carrying a black cane with no material in his hand, holding a pipe in his mouth, and his face was cold, looking like an officer in casual clothes.

What impressed Joan the most was his eyes.

Those gray eyes did not have the slightest emotional color, and their sharp eyes seemed to be able to penetrate all matter, including the human heart, and made people dare not look at them.

"Karl, keep up!"

The short, stern man turned around and whistle.

The dark-haired hound ran to the owner in response to his voice, and was very clever and sensible.

The hound named "Karl" followed the owner's feet closely. Instead of puffing out his tongue like a normal hound, he closed his mouth tightly, silently, and glanced around the crowd.

Joan noticed that the hound's eyes were as cold and majestic as his master, as if he were a judge in black robe.

If anyone does something bad, I'm afraid they won't stare at this glorious hound.

Joan vaguely has an intuition that neither a short man nor his hound are ordinary people.

The cold and hard temperament exuded from the stout man is incompatible with the leisure atmosphere of the club. It is not like a pastime, it is more like looking for something.

Just as Joan secretly observed the man and the dog, there was a crisp sound of a batting sound in his ear.

"Joan, it's your turn."

Professor Moriarti put down his club, took out his handkerchief, wiped his hands, and came to the side with a smile.

Joan poured a cup of black tea, handed it to the instructor, lifted the cue, and walked to the table.

I looked at the situation on the table and frowned.

The ball that can be played on the table is almost completely scored by Professor Moriarty.

On the last shot, Mr. Professor did not take the risk. He made a defensive shot and hid the white ball behind the black ball close to the base library. The two **** were almost close together.

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