w?" asked the Assistant Commissioner, putting his elbows on the table
and raising his joined hands before his face, as if about to offer
prayer, only that his eyes had not a pious expression.

"No, sir; certainly not. What would have been the object? That sort of
man could never be produced publicly to any good purpose. It was
sufficient for me to know who he was, and to make use of him in a way
that could be used publicly."

"And do you think that sort of private knowledge consistent with the
official position you occupy?"

"Perfectly, sir. I think it's quite proper. I will take the liberty to
tell you, sir, that it makes me what I am--and I am looked upon as a man
who knows his work. It's a private affair of my own. A personal friend
of mine in the French police gave me the hint that the fellow was an
Embassy spy. Private friendship, private information, private use of
it--that's how I look upon it."

The Assistant Commissioner after remarking to himself that the mental
state of the renowned Chief Inspector seemed to affect the outline of his
lower jaw, as if the lively sense of his high professional distinction
had been located in that part of his anatomy, dismissed the point for the
moment with a calm "I see." Then leaning his cheek on his joined hands:

"Well then--speaking privately if you like--how long have you been in
private touch with this Embassy spy?"

To this inquiry the private answer of the Chief Inspector, so private
that it was never shaped into audible words, was:

"Long before you were even thought of for your place here."

The so-to-speak public utterance was much more precise.

"I saw him for the first time in my life a little more than seven years
ago, when two Imperial Highnesses and the Imperial Chancellor were on a
visit here. I was put in charge of all the arrangements for looking
after them. Baron Stott-Wartenheim was Ambassador then. He was a very
nervous old gentleman. One evening, three days before the Guildhall
Banquet, he sent word that he wanted to see me for a moment. I was
downstairs, and the carriages were at the door to take the Imperial
Highnesses and the Chancellor to the opera. I went up at once. I found
the Baron walking up and down his bedroom in a pitiable state of
distress, squeezing his hands together. He assured me he had the fullest
confidence in our police and in my abilities, but he had there a man just
come over from Paris whose information cou