n us," said Carrados. "In a game of this kind one
has to take sides and we have taken ours. It remains for us to see
that our side wins. You mentioned jealousy, Mr. Hollyer. Have you any
idea whether Mrs. Creake has real ground for it?"

"I should have told you that," replied Lieutenant Hollyer. "I happened
to strike up with a newspaper man whose office is in the same block as
Creake's. When I mentioned the name he grinned. 'Creake,' he said,
'oh, he's the man with the romantic typist, isn't he?' 'Well, he's my
brother-in-law,' I replied. 'What about the typist?' Then the chap
shut up like a knife. 'No, no,' he said, 'I didn't know he was
married. I don't want to get mixed up in anything of that sort. I only
said that he had a typist. Well, what of that? So have we; so has
everyone.' There was nothing more to be got out of him, but the remark
and the grin meant--well, about as usual, Mr. Carrados."

Carrados turned to his friend.

"I suppose you know all about the typist by now, Louis?"

"We have had her under efficient observation, Max," replied Mr.
Carlyle with severe dignity.

"Is she unmarried?"

"Yes; so far as ordinary repute goes, she is."

"That is all that is essential for the moment. Mr. Hollyer opens up
three excellent reasons why this man might wish to dispose of his
wife. If we accept the suggestion of poisoning--though we have only a
jealous woman's suspicion for it--we add to the wish the
determination. Well, we will go forward on that. Have you got a
photograph of Mr. Creake?"

The lieutenant took out his pocket-book.

"Mr. Carlyle asked me for one. Here is the best I could get."

Carrados rang the bell.

"This, Parkinson," he said, when the man appeared, "is a photograph of
a Mr. ---- What first name, by the way?"

"Austin," put in Hollyer, who was following everything with a boyish
mixture of excitement and subdued importance.

"--of a Mr. Austin Creake. I may require you to recognize him."

Parkinson glanced at the print and returned it to his master's hand.

"May I inquire if it is a recent photograph of the gentleman, sir?" he
asked.

"About six years ago," said the lieutenant, taking in this new actor
in the drama with frank curiosity. "But he is very little changed."

"Thank you, sir. I will endeavour to remember Mr. Creake, sir."

Lieutenant Hollyer stood up as Parkinson left the room. The interview
seemed to be at an end.

"Oh, there's one other matter," he remarked. "I a