d there are
all your silver fish. But He has made me a fisher of men."

"Did you catch this man?" asked the colonel, frowning.

Father Brown looked him full in his frowning face. "Yes," he said, "I
caught him, with an unseen hook and an invisible line which is long
enough to let him wander to the ends of the world, and still to bring
him back with a twitch upon the thread."

There was a long silence. All the other men present drifted away
to carry the recovered silver to their comrades, or to consult the
proprietor about the queer condition of affairs. But the grim-faced
colonel still sat sideways on the counter, swinging his long, lank legs
and biting his dark moustache.

At last he said quietly to the priest: "He must have been a clever
fellow, but I think I know a cleverer."

"He was a clever fellow," answered the other, "but I am not quite sure
of what other you mean."

"I mean you," said the colonel, with a short laugh. "I don't want to get
the fellow jailed; make yourself easy about that. But I'd give a good
many silver forks to know exactly how you fell into this affair, and how
you got the stuff out of him. I reckon you're the most up-to-date devil
of the present company."

Father Brown seemed rather to like the saturnine candour of the soldier.
"Well," he said, smiling, "I mustn't tell you anything of the man's
identity, or his own story, of course; but there's no particular reason
why I shouldn't tell you of the mere outside facts which I found out for
myself."

He hopped over the barrier with unexpected activity, and sat beside
Colonel Pound, kicking his short legs like a little boy on a gate. He
began to tell the story as easily as if he were telling it to an old
friend by a Christmas fire.

"You see, colonel," he said, "I was shut up in that small room there
doing some writing, when I heard a pair of feet in this passage doing a
dance that was as queer as the dance of death. First came quick, funny
little steps, like a man walking on tiptoe for a wager; then came slow,
careless, creaking steps, as of a big man walking about with a cigar.
But they were both made by the same feet, I swear, and they came in
rotation; first the run and then the walk, and then the run again. I
wondered at first idly and then wildly why a man should act these two
parts at once. One walk I knew; it was just like yours, colonel. It
was the walk of a well-fed gentleman waiting for something, who strolls
about rather beca