am a
plain business man, nothing more--I find it absolutely necessary not to
communicate all my information to the layman until the case is quite
perfect in all its points. But do not get the notion, Mr. Cleggett,
that I underestimate the part that you have taken in the case of Logan
Black. You have helped me, Mr. Cleggett. When I have my secretary
prepare the case of Logan Black for magazine and newspaper publication
I shall have your name mentioned as that of a person who has helped me.
Yes, you have helped me."

As he spoke he picked from a reading table a magazine, on the cover of
which appeared his own portrait--or rather, the portrait of the popular
conception of Wilton Barnstable--and began to make motions about it
with his finger. He appeared to be marking off the space beside the
portrait into an arrangement of letters and spaces. His lips moved as
he did so; he murmured: "The Case of Logan Black--the Case of Logan
Black!" He seemed to see, with the eye of a typographical expert, the
legend printed there. Barton Ward and Watson Bard, slightly flushed and
a little excited in spite of themselves, seemed also to see it there.

It might have occurred to a person more critical than Cleggett that it
was he himself who had furnished nearly all the real evidence upon
which Wilton Barnstable was constructing this Case of Logan Black. But
Cleggett looked for the gold in men, not the dross; the great qualities
of Wilton Barnstable appealed to his imagination; the best in Cleggett
responded to the best in Wilton Barnstable; if the detective possessed
a certain amount of vanity, Cleggett preferred to overlook it.

"Decidedly," said Wilton Barnstable, laying down the magazine, and
looking at Cleggett kindly and serenely, "I shall see to it that your
name is mentioned in connection with the Case of Logan Black." And
Barton Ward and Watson Bard also bent upon him their bland and friendly
regard.

Cleggett was about to thank them, but at that moment there was a
commotion of some sort on deck.

Two female voices, one of which they all recognized as that of Miss
Genevieve Pringle, were mingling in a babble of greeting,
expostulation, interjection, and explanation, and presently Miss
Pringle entered the cabin, followed by a younger lady who, except for
her youth, looked much like her.

"My niece, Miss Henrietta Pringle, of Flatbush," said Miss Pringle,
primly presenting her prim relation. "She has just arrived----