re I could complete the sentence the door was flung open and
Drummond Keith appeared again on the threshold, his white Panama on his
head.

"I say, Grant," he said, knocking off his cigarette ash against the
door, "I've got no money in the world till next April. Could you lend me
a hundred pounds? There's a good chap."

Rupert and I looked at each other in an ironical silence. Basil, who was
sitting by his desk, swung the chair round idly on its screw and picked
up a quill-pen.

"Shall I cross it?" he asked, opening a cheque-book.

"Really," began Rupert, with a rather nervous loudness, "since
Lieutenant Keith has seen fit to make this suggestion to Basil before
his family, I--"

"Here you are, Ugly," said Basil, fluttering a cheque in the direction
of the quite nonchalant officer. "Are you in a hurry?"

"Yes," replied Keith, in a rather abrupt way. "As a matter of fact I
want it now. I want to see my--er--business man."

Rupert was eyeing him sarcastically, and I could see that it was on
the tip of his tongue to say, inquiringly, "Receiver of stolen goods,
perhaps." What he did say was:

"A business man? That's rather a general description, Lieutenant Keith."

Keith looked at him sharply, and then said, with something rather like
ill-temper:

"He's a thingum-my-bob, a house-agent, say. I'm going to see him."

"Oh, you're going to see a house-agent, are you?" said Rupert Grant
grimly. "Do you know, Mr Keith, I think I should very much like to go
with you?"

Basil shook with his soundless laughter. Lieutenant Keith started a
little; his brow blackened sharply.

"I beg your pardon," he said. "What did you say?"

Rupert's face had been growing from stage to stage of ferocious irony,
and he answered:

"I was saying that I wondered whether you would mind our strolling along
with you to this house-agent's."

The visitor swung his stick with a sudden whirling violence.

"Oh, in God's name, come to my house-agent's! Come to my bedroom. Look
under my bed. Examine my dust-bin. Come along!" And with a furious
energy which took away our breath he banged his way out of the room.

Rupert Grant, his restless blue eyes dancing with his detective
excitement, soon shouldered alongside him, talking to him with that
transparent camaraderie which he imagined to be appropriate from the
disguised policeman to the disguised criminal. His interpretation
was certainly corroborated by one particular detail, the unmistakable