abbed up the bundle of notes, quite forgetting
to close the safe-door, and rushed out of the vault. Ramagee was in the
corridor outside, and probably whistled the snake back through the
ventilating holes near the floor, instead of venturing near the body
himself. You remember, you heard the sound of that pipe, Mr. Wilson?
Ramagee probably made his escape while the Inspector was upstairs.
Unfortunately for him, he ran right into Mr. George Barrington here, and
when, as he tells me, he later told Brent about seeing Ramagee, well,
the whole thing became as plain as a pikestaff."

"Yes," put in George Barrington, excitedly, taking up the tale in his
weak, rather silly voice, "my step-father refused to believe me, and
gave me L20 in notes to go away. I suppose he didn't notice they were
some of the stolen ones. I changed one of them at the bank this morning,
but I had no idea how important they were until I knocked into Mr.--Mr.
Cleek here. And he made me come along with him."

Mr. Narkom looked at Cleek, and Cleek looked at Mr. Narkom, and the
blank wonder in the Superintendent's eyes caused him to smile.

"Another feather in the cap of foolish old Scotland Yard, isn't it?" he
said. "Time we made tracks I think. Coming our way, Mr. Wilson? We'll
see you back home if you like. You're too upset to go on alone. Good
afternoon, Inspector and--good-bye. I'll leave the case with you. It's
safe enough in your hands, but if you take my tip you'll put that human
beast in as tight a lock-up as the station affords."

Then he linked one arm in Mr. Narkom's and the other arm in that of the
admiring, and wholly speechless Wilson, and went out into the sunshine.

FOOTNOTE:

[Footnote D: From _Short Stories_.--Dec., 1919.]

VII

THE SAFETY MATCH[E]

ANTON CHEKHOV

I

On the morning of October 6, 1885, in the office of the Inspector of
Police of the second division of S-- District, there appeared a
respectably dressed young man, who announced that his master, Marcus
Ivanovitch Klausoff, a retired officer of the Horse Guards, separated
from his wife, had been murdered. While making this announcement the
young man was white and terribly agitated. His hands trembled and his
eyes were full of terror.

"Whom have I the honour of addressing?" asked the inspector.

"Psyekoff, Lieutenant Klausoff's agent; agriculturist and mechanician!"

The inspector and his deputy, on visiting the scene of the occurrence in
company with