vices in this particular case. Fancy, Miss Morrison, the muff
came back from Ireland this evening, said the clairvoyante he consulted
went into a trance, and told him that the key to the mystery could only
be discovered in Germany, and he wanted me to sanction his going over
there on no better evidence than that. Of course, I wouldn't; so I took
him off the case forthwith, and set out to get another and a better man
to handle it. That's what delayed me. And now, Mr. Van Nant"--fairly
beaming, and rubbing his palms together delightedly--"here's where the
great and welcome news I spoke of comes in. I remembered how your heart
is wrapped up in the solving of this great puzzle and what you said
about it being a question of money alone; and so, what do you think I
did? I went to that great man, Cleek. I laid the matter before him, told
him there was no reward, that it was just a matter of sheer
humanity--the consciousness of doing his duty and helping another fellow
in distress--and, throw up your hat and cheer, my dear fellow, for
you've got your heart's desire: Cleek's consented to take the case!"

A little flurry of excitement greeted this announcement. Miss Morrison
grabbed his hand and burst into tears of gratitude; the captain,
forgetting in his delight the state of his injured foot, rose from his
chair, only to remember suddenly and sit down again, his half-uttered
cheer dying on his lips; and Van Nant, as if overcome by this unexpected
boon, this granting of a wish he had never dared to hope would be
fulfilled, could only clap both hands over his face and sob
hysterically.

"Cleek!" he said, in a voice that shook with nervous catches and the
emotion of a soul deeply stirred, "Cleek to take the case? The great,
the amazing, the undeceivable Cleek! Oh, Mr. Narkom, can this be true?"

"As true as that you are standing here this minute, my dear sir. Not so
much of a money grabber as that muff Headland wanted you to believe, is
he--eh? Waived every hope of a reward, and took the case on the spot.
He'll get at the root of it, Lord, yes! Lay you a sovereign to a
sixpence, Mr. Van Nant, he gets to the bottom of it and finds out what
became of George Carboys in forty-eight hours after he begins on the
case."

"And when will he begin, Mr. Narkom? To-morrow? The next day? Or not
this week at all? When, sir--when?"

"When? Why, bless your heart, man, he's begun already or, at least, will
do so in another hour and a half. He