"I didn't stop to have my drink. I went straight off to see old Ison
and pumped him for the rest of the evening. He wasn't very helpful
but everything I could get out of him went to confirm my theory. I
found for certain that Simon Rattar had never smoked in his life, and
that George used to be a heavy smoker. I also learned that a few
recent peculiarities of conduct had struck the not too observant Ison,
one being very suggestive. Rattar, it seemed, kept an old pair of kid
gloves in his desk which he was in the habit of wearing when he was
alone in the office."

"Don't quite see the bearing of that."

"Well, on my hypothesis it was to avoid leaving finger marks. You see
George was an ex-convict. It was a very judicious precaution too, and
made it extremely difficult to catch him out by that means, for one
could scarcely approach a respectable solicitor and ask him for an
impression of his fingers! And anyhow, nothing could be definitely
proved against him until we had found Simon's body. That was the next
problem. Where had he hidden it?"

"And how did you get at that?"

"Guessed it. At first my thoughts went too far afield, but when I went
over the times mentioned in the maid's story of the man who took away
the papers, and the fact that she heard no sound of a wheeled vehicle, I
realised that he must have simply planted it in one of the flower beds.
This morning I prodded them all with a stout walking stick and found the
spot. Then I talked like a father to old Sutherland and fixed everything
up with him. And then I sent my wire to you."

"And you deliberately tell me you got there as much by good luck as good
guidance?"

Carrington's eyes thoughtfully followed his smoke rings.

"I can see the luck at every turn," he answered, "and though I'd like to
believe in the guidance, I'm hanged if it's quite as distinct!"

"If you are telling me the neat, unvarnished truth, Carrington," said
his admiring employer, "I can only say that you've a lot to learn about
your own abilities--and I hope to Heaven you'll never learn it!"

"But I assure you there are some people who think me conceited!"

"There are guys of all sorts in the world," said Ned. "For instance
there's a girl who has mistaken me for a daisy, and I've got to get back
to her now. Good night! I won't say 'Thanks' because I can't shout it
loud enough."

When his gig lamps had flashed up the silent street and Carrington had
turned back from the pavement