Gladwin continued:

"Didn't expect to see me so soon, did you, old scout?"

"I should say I didn't. Why, when I got that telegram of yours to call
up Thomas Smith at the Ritz it certainly was some jar to my delicate
nervous system."

Travers Gladwin laughed and rubbed his hands.

"Did it, though?" he cried. "Gave you a real thrill, eh?"

"Exact and specific--a real thrill."

"Well, you're lucky--a surprise and a thrill. I'd give anything for a
real surprise--I've hunted this little planet's four corners for one
and failed to connect."

"If you can't achieve 'em you seem to be in the business of
manufacturing 'em. Come along now, what's all this thundering mystery.
I'm shot to pieces with curiosity. What's happened to make you come
home like this?"

"Watkins!" replied Travers Gladwin curtly.

"Watkins! What Watkins? Who's Watkins?"

"Watkins is my man--I mean, Watkins was my man before I found out that
he was systematically robbing me."

"Oh, I remember now. A jolly good servant, though. So he robbed you,
did he? But they all do."

"Yes, but they don't always get found out--caught with the goods, as
the police say. I caught Watkins with the goods and sacked him."

"But you don't mean to tell me that you came kiting home from the
pyramids and the lovely Sahara desert just because this chap Watkins
was dishonest?" said Whitney Barnes, in tones of incredulity.

"No, Whitney," replied Gladwin, dropping into a chair and puckering
his forehead with a frown. "Watkins was only the start of it. I got
rid of him six months ago. But while I was on my way to Egypt I
learned that Watkins and my lawyer had been in some sort of a secret
correspondence before I gave Watkins the bounce."

"What lawyer? Not 'Old Reliable' Forbes? Why, I thought he wore a
certified halo."

"So did I, but I've got news to the contrary, and you know he has
charge of everything for me--keeps all my securities--has a power of
attorney--signs checks and all that."

"That sounds bad," said Whitney Barnes, sympathetically. "The old
saint could come pretty close to ruining you."

"Now you've hit it," assented Gladwin. "So I've come home to
investigate--sleuthing expedition, you might say. Didn't want him to
hear I was coming and climb out. Now you've got the answer to the
gumshoe riddle. My plan is to lie low and have you look him up.
Nothing else on foot, Whitney? Haven't gone into mustard or Wall
street, have you?"

It was Whitney Barn