a little under this
good-humoured satire, although it was easy enough to see in it
Carrados's affectionate intention--"at all events, I dare say I can
give as good a description of Parkinson as he can give of me."

"That is what we are going to test. Ring the bell again."

"Seriously?"

"Quite. I am trying my eyes against yours. If I can't give you fifty
out of a hundred I'll renounce my private detectorial ambition for
ever."

"It isn't quite the same," objected Carlyle, but he rang the bell.

"Come in and close the door, Parkinson," said Carrados when the man
appeared. "Don't look at Mr. Carlyle again--in fact, you had better
stand with your back towards him, he won't mind. Now describe to me
his appearance as you observed it."

Parkinson tendered his respectful apologies to Mr. Carlyle for the
liberty he was compelled to take, by the deferential quality of his
voice.

"Mr. Carlyle, sir, wears patent leather boots of about size seven and
very little used. There are five buttons, but on the left boot one
button--the third up--is missing, leaving loose threads and not the
more usual metal fastener. Mr. Carlyle's trousers, sir, are of a dark
material, a dark grey line of about a quarter of an inch width on a
darker ground. The bottoms are turned permanently up and are, just
now, a little muddy, if I may say so."

"Very muddy," interposed Mr. Carlyle generously. "It is a wet night,
Parkinson."

"Yes, sir; very unpleasant weather. If you will allow me, sir, I will
brush you in the hall. The mud is dry now, I notice. Then, sir,"
continued Parkinson, reverting to the business in hand, "there are
dark green cashmere hose. A curb-pattern key-chain passes into the
left-hand trouser pocket."

From the visitor's nether garments the photographic-eyed Parkinson
proceeded to higher ground, and with increasing wonder Mr. Carlyle
listened to the faithful catalogue of his possessions. His
fetter-and-link albert of gold and platinum was minutely described.
His spotted blue ascot, with its gentlemanly pearl scarfpin, was set
forth, and the fact that the buttonhole in the left lapel of his
morning coat showed signs of use was duly noted. What Parkinson saw he
recorded, but he made no deductions. A handkerchief carried in the
cuff of the right sleeve was simply that to him and not an indication
that Mr. Carlyle was, indeed, left-handed.

But a more delicate part of Parkinson's undertaking remained. He
approached it with a d