a light step on the
stairs warned them that their privacy was to be invaded. Miss Ocky
advanced upon them with determination, and instantly revealed that she
had at least one quality in common with the inquisitive Mr. Krech.

"Where have you been?" she demanded. "What have you been doing? I
sent Bates to look for you a while ago and he reported you missing."

"Anything special, Miss Copley?"

"Mostly curiosity," she confessed shamelessly. "I've never seen a
detective at work and I've always wanted to. I think yours must be the
most fascinating profession in the world even if it's a rather sad one.
Don't you find after looking into the hearts of people and dissecting
their mean little minds and motives that you grow cynical on the
subject of humanity?"

"Indeed I do not," he answered earnestly. "Your question makes you
sound more cynical that I ever dreamed of being. My experience is that
very few persons have mean minds and motives, and they are often
victims of some pressure of circumstance they can't control or resist.
I've put handcuffs on more than one poor devil for whom I've had
nothing but sympathy."

"You put them on just the same, though?"

"Certainly. I'm supposed to, you know."

"It seems very hard-hearted. If you knew that 'poor devil' was morally
justified in committing his crime, wouldn't you be tempted to--leave
the key of the handcuffs where he could get it?"

"Tempted, perhaps; that's all."

"Suppose it was some one who had a claim on you--a sister or brother or
child?"

"You must ask that of some unfortunate sleuth with a family. My
nearest relative is a third cousin who lives in Chicago but has
nevertheless shown no criminal tendency to date. I'm remarkably
well-protected from any potential struggle between duty and
inclination." He smiled, and added apologetically, "Detective ethics
is a pretty complicated subject to discuss, and I'm afraid it isn't
getting on with the problem of who stole a notebook from Simon Varr's
desk."

"Of course it isn't--and I'm much more interested in seeing you attack
that! But I warn you our conversation is only postponed!"

They entered the study, where Creighton went straight to the window and
stood looking out at the now devastated garden where Simon Varr had
been found.

"Who _did_ find him, by the way?" he voiced a sudden thought.

"Katie, the cook. She came down first, as usual, and saw a man lying
flat on his back in the tomato patc