said Thorndyke. "And now let us see what you have collected."

He glanced quickly through the entries in the two books, referring back
once or twice, and stood for a few moments silent and abstracted. Then
he laid the little books down on the table with a satisfied nod.

"Our information, then," he said, "amounts to this: Reuben is an
industrious worker at his business and, in his leisure, a student of
ancient and medieval art; possibly a babbling fool and a cad or, on the
other hand, a maligned and much-abused man. "Walter Hornby is
obviously a sneak and possibly a liar; a keen man of business, perhaps a
flutterer round the financial candle that burns in Throgmorton Street;
an expert photographer and a competent worker of the collotype process.
You have done a very excellent day's work, Jervis. I wonder if you see
the bearing of the facts that you have collected."

"I think I see the bearing of some of them," I answered; "at least, I
have formed certain opinions."

"Then keep them to yourself, _mon ami_, so that I need not feel as if I
ought to unbosom myself of my own views."

"I should be very much surprised if you did, Thorndyke," I replied, "and
should have none the better opinion of you. I realise fully that your
opinions and theories are the property of your client and not to be used
for the entertainment of your friends."

Thorndyke patted me on the back playfully, but he looked uncommonly
pleased, and said, with evident sincerity, "I am really grateful to you
for saying that, for I have felt a little awkward in being so reticent
with you who know so much of this case. But you are quite right, and I
am delighted to find you so discerning and sympathetic. The least I can
do under the circumstances is to uncork a bottle of Pommard, and drink
the health of so loyal and helpful a colleague. Ah! Praise the gods!
here is Polton, like a sacrificial priest accompanied by a sweet savour
of roasted flesh. Rump steak I ween," he added, sniffing, "food meet for
the mighty Shamash (that pun was fortuitous, I need not say) or a
ravenous medical jurist. Can you explain to me, Polton, how it is that
your rump steak is better than any other steak? Is it that you have
command of a special brand of ox?"

The little man's dry countenance wrinkled with pleasure until it was as
full of lines as a ground-plan of Clapham Junction.

"Perhaps it is the special treatment it gets, sir," he replied. "I
usually bruise it in the mort