"By all that's good!" he ejaculated, as Mr. Narkom jumped into the room somewhat heavily at sound of his hastily spoken ejaculation. "See that mark there in the woodwork, above the spot where we dug the bullet out this morning? Nearly shot me through the head, old friend, and made an end of your troublesome ally at last! Gad! the ingenuity of it! The devilish ingenuity! So that's how it was done, eh? We'll look into the thing a bit closer, but from what I have already seen I'd say there was a pistol hidden inside that wheel, but the thing's so perfectly done that it must have taken a master-hand to have done it. And where's the master-hand here? Ross Duggan?—with his hobby for electricity? He's not got the face of a man who could contrive a thing like that, and carry it out to such a pitch of perfection. And yet—it's a soundless pistol, all right, that did the deed. But the patience of the manipulator! the straightness of vision, to be certain of the moment to operate it! That man would be a useful adjunct to Scotland Yard's force, Mr. Narkom, with knowledge such as that. It's the most diabolically clever thing I've ever encountered!"

"It is—by James! it is!" returned the Superintendent, mopping his forehead in his excitement and going very red in the face. "Sure it isn't a woman, old chap? Women are pretty tricky people in affairs of this kind. And the contrivance of it, too!... So that's how it is done, is it?" as Cleek's agile fingers slid over the wheel and stopped upon a faint line which showed how the thing had been cut out and then stuck in again after the pistol had been lodged in its hiding-place. "Here; use my knife and dig it out, won't you?"

"Never! The time for doing that will be after I have given a demonstration of its prowess before the assembled company. I'm no master at intricate woodwork and mechanism such as that, Mr. Narkom, and I want to keep it in perfect working order for the crucial moment. If I extracted it now, ten chances to one I'd never get it back again. The thing to be discovered is to find out the man in this establishment whose fingers give him away as a delicate worker. And there's just one I've noticed that——"

And it was just as the name formed itself upon his lips that Cyril Duggan burst hurriedly into the room, despite the detaining hands of the constable on duty outside the door, and beckoned hastily to Cleek.

"Your man wants you, Mr. Deland," he said breathlessly. "Says it's awfully important and must see you at once. He wouldn't come in, but asked me to tell you, would you come round to the servants' quarters as soon as you could? He's waiting in the outer courtyard. Ginger-headed chap by the name of Dollops. I'd only just gone out for a breath of fresh air before Mother packed me off to bed—ten o'clock is the latest hour I'm permitted to sit up to. But he seemed so anxious to see you that I promised to come along at once. It's gone ten now, I think, and Mother will be after me if I'm not off—she's frightfully particular on little matters. But the policeman here said you and Mr. Narkom were busy and were not to be disturbed.... I say! What's the matter with the old spinning wheel, eh? You seem to be frightfully interested in it!"

"I am—as you say—frightfully," returned Cleek with a smile. "But nothing of any more consequence than an outsider's interest in something he knows nothing about. Ever looked at the thing, my boy?"

"Yes—heaps of times. And experimented upon it, too! Tried all sorts of ways to make it go, until Mother put a stop to my touching it, and said I should probably hurt myself with the spindle and break the thing."

"Oh, she did, did she? Well, perhaps you might. It's more harmful than people give it credit for. All right, Cyril; many thanks for telling me. I'll be along in a moment or two. You'd better get off to bed now, or Lady Paula will be on your track, I'll swear. Good-night."

"Good-night, Mr. Deland; good-night, Mr. Narkom."

He was off again like a shot, and Cleek could hear his light steps running down the hallway and up the stairs, like the big child he was.

"Funny thing," he said to Mr. Narkom as the two left the room together and walked down the corridor toward the servants' quarters, "but that young gentleman always seems to turn up in the most unforeseen moments. Notice his fingers, did you, Mr. Narkom? No? Well, they are as delicate as a woman's and as strong as a man's. Curiously strong for a fifteen-year-old, I must say. Now, if I didn't know better, I'd lay a ducat to a dollar that that lad is a good sight cleverer than either you or I give him credit for, and with his mother's blood in him and a portion of his rascally grandfather's, too, there's no telling just exactly where he will end up.... Hello! is that you, Jarvis? I'm told my man wants to see me very particularly. Know where he is by any chance? It's probably about that blue suit of mine. He worries more over my clothes than any woman. In the courtyard? Thanks, very much. You coming along, too, Mr. Narkom?"

"Don't mind if I do," returned the Superintendent off-handedly, "seeing that there is nothing more to be discovered to-night. My man's in charge, so we might go over to the Three Fishers and have a quiet smoke in your rooms. That is, if you'd care about it?"

"Love to, my dear chap, love to. Through this door, eh, Jarvis? Nice snug place you've got here, I must say. Family do you well, I suppose?"

"Yessir," Jarvis's voice bordered upon the confidential. "Tight-fisted where the money is, sir, but—that's Scotch, you know."

"And you're London, eh?—and naturally generous! I understand. Well, here's something to buy yourself a drink with." And Cleek dropped half-a-crown into the butler's hands.

As the two men disappeared through the kitchen door and out into the courtyard, the highly elated Jarvis turned to his fellow servants with a genuine sigh of admiration.

"Amachoor detective or not," he apostrophized the absent gentleman, "an' queer in the top story though 'e may be, that's what I calls a right-down Lunnon gentleman!"