d my suspicions of
poor Cesarine.

VIII

THE EPISODE OF THE SELDON GOLD-MINE

On our return to London, Charles and Marvillier had a difference
of opinion on the subject of Medhurst.

Charles maintained that Marvillier ought to have known the man
with the cropped hair was Colonel Clay, and ought never to have
recommended him. Marvillier maintained that Charles had _seen_
Colonel Clay half-a-dozen times, at least, to his own never; and
that my respected brother-in-law had therefore nobody on earth
but himself to blame if the rogue imposed upon him. The head
detective had known Medhurst for ten years, he said, as a most
respectable man, and even a ratepayer; he had always found him the
cleverest of spies, as well he might be, indeed, on the familiar
set-a-thief-to-catch-a-thief principle. However, the upshot of
it all was, as usual--nothing. Marvillier was sorry to lose the
services of so excellent a hand; but he had done the very best
he could for Sir Charles, he declared; and if Sir Charles was
not satisfied, why, he might catch his Colonel Clays for himself
in future.

"So I will, Sey," Charles remarked to me, as we walked back from
the office in the Strand by Piccadilly. "I won't trust any more to
these private detectives. It's my belief they're a pack of thieves
themselves, in league with the rascals they're set to catch, and
with no more sense of honour than a Zulu diamond-hand."

"Better try the police," I suggested, by way of being helpful.
One must assume an interest in one's employer's business.

But Charles shook his head. "No, no," he said; "I'm sick of all
these fellows. I shall trust in future to my own sagacity. We
learn by experience, Sey--and I've learned a thing or two. One of
them is this: It's not enough to suspect everybody; you must have
no preconceptions. Divest yourself entirely of every fixed idea
if you wish to cope with a rascal of this calibre. Don't jump at
conclusions. We should disbelieve everything, as well as distrust
everybody. That's the road to success; and I mean to pursue it."

So, by way of pursuing it, Charles retired to Seldon.

"The longer the man goes on, the worse he grows," he said to me
one morning. "He's just like a tiger that has tasted blood. Every
successful haul seems only to make him more eager for another.
I fully expect now before long we shall see him down here."

About three weeks later, sure enough, my respected connection
received a communicat