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And during Schicklgruber's war, I volunteered as bayonet instructor for the local Home Guard." "My God!" Rand made a wry face. "There must be close to a hundred people around here who'd know that, and all of them are probably convinced that you killed Rivers, and are expressing that opinion at the top of their voices to all comers. You don't want a detective, you want a magician!"
It started to write, as Kennedy wrote, upstairs: "HOUSE DETECTIVE QUICK HOLD WOMAN WITH BLUE CHATELAINE BAG, GETTING OUT OF ELEVATOR." The clerks downstairs saw it and shouted above the din of the rat- baiting. "McCann McCann!" The clerk had torn off the message from the telautograph register, and handed it to the house man who pushed his way to the desk.
Following this line of reasoning, the detective walked hastily in the direction of Charing Cross, dodging in and out among the passers-by, and eying keenly everyone he met, in the hope that he might discover the man with the satchel. He was, however, doomed to disappointment.
"Am I not at liberty to have a lady dine with me in a public restaurant?" interposed Kirkwood, without raising his voice. The hard eyes looked him up and down without favor. Then: "Beg pardon, sir. I see my mistake," said the detective brusquely. "I am glad you do," returned Kirkwood grimly. "I fancy it will bear investigation." He mounted the step.
Dykeman whispered at him. Cummings nodded with that self-conscious, half-tickled, half-sheepish air that men display when it comes to costume. His greeting to me was cool but not surly. What had happened might go as all in the day's work between detective and lawyer. "Just seen Bowman," was my first pass at them.
For once, Professor Ruggles missed it woefully. As the detective was ten yards behind the Professor, and the car was going at good speed, there was quite twenty rods difference between the two men when they landed. Dyke Darrel was completely hidden from the sight of Ruggles by a clump of trees. Ruggles gazed up the track, but saw nothing of his pursuer.
"I know," resumed Calton, addressing the detective, "that you are fully convinced in your own mind that you are right and I am wrong, but what if I tell you that Mark Frettlby died holding those very papers for the sake of which the crime was committed?" Kilsip's face lengthened considerably. "What were the papers?"
But the papers contained nothing of worth to the police. Mostly they related to Whitmore's business affairs, which apparently were in a healthy and flourishing condition. With a shrug of disappointment the detective flung the last of the documents from him. "Wasted labor!" he observed to the chief. "Might as well return them to Beard."
Tish, watching the detective, said his expression grew more and more anxious as we proceeded up the river. Cottages gave place to logging-camps and these to rocky islands, with no sign of life; still, the spy stayed on the steamer, and so, of course, did the detective. Tish went down and examined the luggage.
But if she elected to treat the marriage as a binding act, no matter how it was procured, and continued to live with her husband, that vital fact would affect the question of validity?" "As you say, it would be a vital fact." The detective was clearly impressed, but Lord Valletort swept aside these quibbles of jurisprudence.
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