broken by Rupert Grant. He spoke in that sweet and
steely voice which he reserved for great occasions and practised for
hours together in his bedroom. He said:

"Mr Montmorency, I think?"

The old gentleman started, lifted his eyes with a bland bewilderment,
picked up the ferret by the neck, stuffed it alive into his trousers
pocket, smiled apologetically, and said:

"Sir."

"You are a house-agent, are you not?" asked Rupert.

To the delight of that criminal investigator, Mr Montmorency's eyes
wandered unquietly towards Lieutenant Keith, the only man present that
he knew.

"A house-agent," cried Rupert again, bringing out the word as if it were
"burglar'.

"Yes... oh, yes," said the man, with a quavering and almost coquettish
smile. "I am a house-agent... oh, yes."

"Well, I think," said Rupert, with a sardonic sleekness, "that
Lieutenant Keith wants to speak to you. We have come in by his request."

Lieutenant Keith was lowering gloomily, and now he spoke.

"I have come, Mr Montmorency, about that house of mine."

"Yes, sir," said Montmorency, spreading his fingers on the flat counter.
"It's all ready, sir. I've attended to all your suggestions er--about
the br--"

"Right," cried Keith, cutting the word short with the startling neatness
of a gunshot. "We needn't bother about all that. If you've done what I
told you, all right."

And he turned sharply towards the door.

Mr Montmorency, House-Agent, presented a picture of pathos. After
stammering a moment he said: "Excuse me... Mr Keith... there was another
matter... about which I wasn't quite sure. I tried to get all the
heating apparatus possible under the circumstances ... but in winter...
at that elevation..."

"Can't expect much, eh?" said the lieutenant, cutting in with the same
sudden skill. "No, of course not. That's all right, Montmorency. There
can't be any more difficulties," and he put his hand on the handle of
the door.

"I think," said Rupert Grant, with a satanic suavity, "that Mr
Montmorency has something further to say to you, lieutenant."

"Only," said the house-agent, in desperation, "what about the birds?"

"I beg your pardon," said Rupert, in a general blank.

"What about the birds?" said the house-agent doggedly.

Basil, who had remained throughout the proceedings in a state of
Napoleonic calm, which might be more accurately described as a state of
Napoleonic stupidity, suddenly lifted his leonine head.

"Before you go, L