Jim--all pals here."

The innocent-looking Mr. Milsey, who, during this conversation, had
mechanically sipped at his whisky and soda and reflectively gazed at the
various pictures with which the absent Mr. Stillwater had decorated the
walls of his parlour, plunged a hand into some deep recess in his
overcoat and brought out an oblong case which reminded Triffitt of
nothing so much as those Morocco or Russian-leather affairs in which a
knife, a fork, and a spoon repose on padded blue satin and form an
elegant present to a newly-born infant. Mr. Milsey snapped open the lid
of his case, and revealed, instead of spoon or fork or knife a number of
shining keys, of all sorts and sizes and strange patterns, all of
delicate make and of evidently superior workmanship. He pushed the case
across the table to the corner at which Triffitt was sitting, and
Davidge regarded it fondly in transit.

"Pretty things, ain't they?" he said. "Good workmanship there! There's
not very much that you could lock up--in the ordinary way of drawers,
boxes, desks, and so on--that Milsey there couldn't get into with the
help of one or other of those little friends--what, Jim?"

"Nothing!--always excepting a safe," assented Mr. Milsey.

"Well, we don't suppose our friend next door keeps an article of that
description on his premises," said Davidge cheerfully. "But we expect
he's got a desk, or a private drawer, or something of that nature in
which we may find a few little matters of interest and importance--it's
curious, Mr. Triffitt--we're constantly taking notice of it in the
course of our professional duties--it's curious how men will keep by
them bits of paper that they ought to throw into the fire, and objects
that they'd do well to cast into the Thames! Ah!--I've known one case in
which a mere scrap of a letter hanged a man, and another in which a bit
of string got a chap fifteen years of the very best--fact, sir! You
never know what you may come across during a search."

"You're going to search his rooms?" asked Triffitt.

"Something of that sort," replied Davidge. "Just a look round, you know,
and a bit of a peep into his private receptacles."

"Then--you're suspecting him in connection with this----" began
Triffitt.

Davidge stopped him with a look, and slowly drank off the contents of
his glass. Then he rose.

"We'll talk of those matters later," he said significantly. "Now that my
gentleman's safely away I think we'll set to work.