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"Oh no," Charles said promptly, "you won't; or Colonel Clay himself will come instead of him. I've been sold too often. No casual strangers! I'll wait here and see him." "But he isn't in," Marvillier objected. Charles was firm as a rock. "Then send and fetch him." In half an hour, sure enough, the detective arrived.
However, Sir Charles, we will do our best. I will set on the track without delay the best and cleverest detective in England." "The very man I want," Charles said. "What name, Marvillier?" The principal smiled. "Whatever name you like," he said. "He isn't particular. Medhurst he's called at home. We call him Joe. I'll send him round to your house this afternoon for certain."
Charles maintained that Marvillier ought to have known the man with the cropped hair was Colonel Clay, and ought never to have recommended him. Marvillier maintained that Charles had seen Colonel Clay half-a-dozen times, at least, to his own never; and that my respected brother-in-law had therefore nobody on earth but himself to blame if the rogue imposed upon him.
His mien was resolute. Altogether, a quainter or 'cuter little man it has never yet been my lot to set eyes on. He walked in with a brisk step, eyed Charles up and down, and then, without much formality, asked for what he was wanted. "This is Sir Charles Vandrift, the great diamond king," Marvillier said, introducing us. "So I see," the man answered. "Then you know me?" Charles asked.
I should know in a minute whether he's got up or not. I'm death on wigs, false moustaches, artificial complexions. I'll engage to bring the rogue to book if I see him. You may set your mind at rest, that, while I'm about you, Colonel Clay can do nothing without my instantly spotting him." "He'll do it," Marvillier put in. "He'll do it, if he says it. He's my very best hand.
"She has just driven off, and monsieur your friend has gone posting after her." "Splendid man!" Charles cried. "Marvillier was quite right. He is the prince of detectives!" We hailed a couple of fiacres, and drove off, in two detachments, to the juge d'instruction.
I shall go to Marvillier's to-morrow fortunate man, Marvillier and ask him to supply me with a really good 'tec, who will stop in the house and keep an eye upon every living soul that comes near me. He shall scan each nose, each eye, each wig, each whisker. He shall be my watchful half, my unsleeping self; it shall be his business to suspect all living men, all breathing women.
Marvillier was sorry to lose the services of so excellent a hand; but he had done the very best he could for Sir Charles, he declared; and if Sir Charles was not satisfied, why, he might catch his Colonel Clays for himself in future. "So I will, Sey," Charles remarked to me, as we walked back from the office in the Strand by Piccadilly. "I won't trust any more to these private detectives.
While I was looking about, and delaying operations for his return, I happened to hear you wanted a detective. So I offered myself as out of work to my old employer, Marvillier, from whom I have had many good jobs in the past; and there you get, in short, the kernel of the Colonel. "Naturally, after this, I can never go back as a detective to Marvillier's.
Don't you remember that line in the Latin grammar something about, 'Who shall watch the watchers? I think it used to run, 'Quis custodes custodiet ipsos?" But I felt this episode had at least disproved my suspicions of poor Césarine. On our return to London, Charles and Marvillier had a difference of opinion on the subject of Medhurst.
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