ector of the Criminal Investigation
Department came down and browsed about the place in company with the
sergeant. Then Mr. Bashfield, who was to conduct the prosecution, came
and took up his abode at the "Cat and Chicken." But the most surprising
visitor was Thorndyke's laboratory assistant, Polton, who appeared one
evening with a large trunk and a sailor's hammock, and announced that he
was going to take up his quarters in the loft.

As to Thorndyke himself, his proceedings were beyond speculation. From
time to time he made mysterious appearances at the windows of the loft,
usually arrayed in what looked suspiciously like a nightshirt. Sometimes
I would see him holding a negative up to the light, at others
manipulating a photographic printing-frame; and once I observed him with
a paintbrush and a large gallipot; on which I turned away in despair,
and nearly collided with the inspector.

"Dr. Thorndyke is staying with you, I hear," said the latter, gazing
earnestly at my colleague's back, which was presented for his inspection
at the window.

"Yes," I answered. "Those are his temporary premises."

"That is where he does his bedevilments, I suppose?" the officer
suggested.

"He conducts his experiments there," I corrected haughtily.

"That's what I mean," said the inspector; and, as Thorndyke at this
moment turned and opened the window, our visitor began to ascend the
steps.

"I've just called to ask if I could have a few words with you, Doctor,"
said the inspector, as he reached the door.

"Certainly," Thorndyke replied blandly. "If you will go down and wait
with Dr. Jervis, I will be with you in five minutes."

The officer came down the steps grinning, and I thought I heard him
murmur "Sold!" But this may have been an illusion. However, Thorndyke
presently emerged, and he and the officer strode away into the
shrubbery. What the inspector's business was, or whether he had any
business at all, I never learned; but the incident seemed to throw some
light on the presence of Polton and the sailor's hammock. And this
reference to Polton reminds me of a very singular change that took place
about this time in the habits of this usually staid and sedate little
man; who, abandoning the somewhat clerical style of dress that he
ordinarily affected, broke out into a semi-nautical costume, in which he
would sally forth every morning in the direction of Port Marston. And
there, on more than one occasion, I saw him leaning