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Francis met Shopland one morning about a week later, on his way from Clarges Street to his chambers in the Temple. The detective raised his hat and would have passed on, but Francis accosted him. "Any progress, Mr. Shopland?" he enquired. The detective fingered his small, sandy moustache. He was an insignificant-looking little man, undersized, with thin frame and watery eyes.
He was gazing fixedly at the man whom Sir Timothy had pointed out. "You still do not fully recognise our friend," the latter observed carelessly. "He calls himself Manuel Loito, and he professes to be a Cuban. His real name I understood, when you introduced us, to be Shopland." "Great heavens, so it is!" Francis exclaimed. "Let us leave him to his precarious pleasures," Sir Timothy suggested.
Shopland saw that all was well. "It means," he announced, "that I have just arrested Mr. Robert Fairfax here on a charge of wilful murder. There is a way out through the kitchens, I believe. Take his other arm, Holmes. Now, gentlemen, if you please." There were a few bewildered exclamations then a dramatic hush. Fairfax had fallen forward on his stool.
If I had only myself to consider I would not hesitate. Personally I like you. You amuse me more than any one I have met for a long time. But unfortunately I have my guests to consider! You must be satisfied with Mr. Ledsam's report." Shopland stroked his stubbly moustache. It was obvious that he was not in the least disconcerted. "There are three days between now and then," he reflected.
"I was present once when he got out of his car, knocked a carter down who was ill-treating a horse, bought it on the spot and sent it home." Shopland smiled, inscrutably yet with the air of one vastly pleased. "These little side-shows," he said, "are what help to make this, which I believe will be the greatest case of my life, so supremely interesting.
A lot of city young men go there late in the evening, but Reggie got off earlier than most of them and used to have the place pretty well to himself. I think that's why he stuck to it." Francis made a note of the address. "I'll get Shopland to step down there some time," he said. "Or better still, finish your lunch and we'll take a taxi there ourselves.
"My dear young lady," he begged, "let us now be friends again. I desired to know your trump card. For that reason I fear that I have been a little brutal. Now please don't hurry away. You have shot your bolt. Already Mr. Shopland is turning the thing over in his mind. Was I lurking outside that night, Mr. Shopland, to guide that young man's flabby arm?
Ledsam," Shopland admitted, "that it was you who first pointed out Sir Timothy as an interesting study for my profession, but that was a matter of months ago. If you will forgive my saying so, your relations with Sir Timothy have altered since then.
"We are not allowed to mention any names here, sir, but as a matter of fact I think that your friend knows. He met the gentleman in here one day. Would you care to have a look at the hospital, sir?" Francis spent a quarter of an hour wandering around. When they left the place, Shopland turned to him with a smile. "Now, sir," he said, "shall I tell you at whose expense that place is run?"
He had just come from below, and had paused opposite a man who had been standing a little apart from the others, one of the few who was wearing an overcoat, as though he felt the cold. In the background were the two servants who had guarded the gangway. "Mr. Manuel Loito," Sir Timothy said "or shall I say Mr. Shopland? my invited guests are welcome.
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