I did not hear the detective's reply, but somehow or other we all drifted there. Mr. Moss at once found an easy-chair, which he pronounced to be "a bit of all right" and in which he assumed an easy and elegant attitude. Mr. Parker, Mr. Cullen, and I completed the circle, which now included a professional gutter-thief, a disappointed detective, Mr. Parker and myself. It was a unique moment in my life! The wine affected the spirits of no one except, perhaps, Mr. Moss; and him, when we finally broke up our party, we thought it advisable to get rid of in quick order. To my surprise Mr. Parker seemed in a particularly despondent frame of mind. He needed pressing even to come to supper. "You were quick-witted, Walmsley," he admitted as we rolled away in the car, "quick-witted, I'll admit that; but you were dead clumsy with your fingers! I could see what you were doing from the back of my head." "Really!" I murmured. "Well, I suppose that sort of thing is a gift. I only know that I hope I may never have to do it again." Mr. Parker sighed. "I fear," he said, "that your troubles with us will soon be over. Eve has been telling me about that young idiot of an Englishman who visited the Bundercombes out in Okata. If there was one man whose name I thought I was safe to make use of it was Joe Bundercombe!" "It seems," I admitted, "to have been an unfortunate choice. What do you think of doing about it?" Mr. Parker apparently had no immediate answer ready for me. During our brief ride in the motor and in the early stages of supper he was afflicted by a taciturnity that made him almost negligible as a companion. And then suddenly a light broke over his face. He had the appearance of a shipwrecked mariner who suddenly catches sight of land in the offing. His lips were a little parted, his boyish face all aglow. "Walmsley, my dear fellow!" he exclaimed. "Eve, dear! The problem is solved! Raise your glasses and drink with me. Here's farewell to Mr. Joseph H. Parker and Miss Parker. And a welcome to Mr. and Miss Bundercombe, of Okata!" "That's all very well," I said; "but Reggie will be on your track." Mr. Parker beamed on Eve and me. "We shall see!" he declared didactically. CHAPTER IX--THE EXPOSURE The next morning at twelve o'clock I took a taxi-cab round to Banton Street. The hall porter, who was beginning to know me well, seemed a little surprised at my appearance. "Is the young lady upstairs?" I asked. He was distinctly taken aback. "Mr. Parker and his daughter have gone," he told me. I stopped on my way to the stairs. "Gone?" I repeated. "Went off this morning," he continued; "two taxi-cabs full of luggage." "Aren't they coming back?" "No signs of it." "Did they leave any address?" "None!" "Are you sure?" I persisted. "Please ask at the office." The porter left me for a moment, but returned shaking his head. "Mr. Parker said there would be no messages or letters, and accordingly he left no address."