on of crime is a business--yes,
a business. I will tell you presently how the box came into my
possession."

"It IS in your possession?" Cleggett felt a dull pang of the heart.
If the box of Reginal Maltravers were in the hands of Logan Black he
could at least trade the other oblong box to Loge for it, and thus save
Lady Agatha. But in the possession of Wilton Barnstable, the great
detective----! Cleggett pulled himself together; he thought rapidly;
he recognized that the situation called, above all things else, for
diplomacy and adroitness. He went on, nonchalantly:

"I suppose you are aware of the contents of the box?"

The other laughed again as if Cleggett had made an excellent jest;
there was something urbane and benign in his manner; it appeared as if
he regarded the contents of the box of Reginald Maltravers as anything
but serious; his tone puzzled Cleggett.

"Suppose I bring the box on board the Jasper B.," suggested the great
detective. "It interests me, that box. I have no doubt it has its
story. And perhaps, while you are telling me some things about it, I
may be able to give you some information in turn."

There was no mistaking the fact that the man, whether genuinely
friendly or no, wished to appear so.

"Have it brought into my cabin," said Cleggett, "and we will discuss
it."

A few minutes later Wilton Barnstable, Cleggett, Lady Agatha, Miss
Pringle, and two of Wilton Barnstable's men sat in the cabin of the
Jasper B., with the two oblong boxes before them--the one which had
contained Loge's incriminating diary, and the one which had caused Lady
Agatha so much trouble.

In the light of the cabin the three detectives were revealed as
startlingly alike. Barton Ward and Watson Bard, Barnstable's two
assistants, might, indeed, almost have been taken for Barnstable
himself, at a casual glance. In height, in bulk, in dress, in facial
expression, they seemed Wilton Barnstable all over again. But, looking
intently at the three men, Cleggett began to perceive a difference
between the real Wilton Barnstable and his two counterfeits. It was the
difference between the face which is informed of genius, and the
countenance which is indicative of mere talent.

"Mr. Cleggett," began Wilton Barnstable, "as I said before, I will make
no attempt to mystify you. I was a witness to the attack upon your
vessel. Mr. Ward, Mr. Bard, and myself, in fact, had determined to
assist you, had we seen that the c