"Personally," said Mr. Hilton, "I think that the sale of this business is a great mistake on the part of the Siker family. The Sikers have been detectives for four generations," he said with a relish of an antiquarian. "George Siker first started work as an investigator in 1814 in this identical building. For thirty-five years he conducted Siker's Confidential Bureau, and was succeeded by his son James the grandfather of the late John George for twenty-three years----" "Quite so, quite so," said Bones. "Poor old George! Well, well, we can't live for ever, dear old chief of staff. Now, the thing is, how to improve this jolly old business." He looked around the dingy apartment without enthusiasm. Bones had visitors that morning, many visitors. They were not, as he had anticipated, veiled ladies or cloaked dukes, nor did they pour into his discreet ears the stories of misspent lives. There was Mr. Carlo Borker, of Borker's Confidential Enquiry Bureau, a gross man in a top hat, who complained bitterly that old man Siker had practically and to all intents and purposes offered him an option of the business years ago. It was a one-sided conversation. "I says to him: 'Siker, if you ever want to sell out' ... He says to me: 'Borker, my boy, you've only to offer me a reasonable figure' ... I says to him: 'Now, Siker, don't ever let anybody else get this business....'" Then there was ex-Inspector Stellingworth, of Stellingworth's Detective Corps, a gloomy man, who painted in the blackest colours the difficulties and tragedies of private investigation, yet seemed willing enough to assume the burden of Siker's Agency, and give Bones a thousand pounds profit on his transaction. Mr. Augustus Tibbetts spent three deliciously happy days in reorganising the business. He purchased from the local gunsmith a number of handcuffs, which were festooned upon the wall behind his desk and secured secretly--since he did not think that the melancholy Mr. Hilton would approve--a large cardboard box filled to the brim with adjustable beards of every conceivable hue, from bright scarlet to mouse colour. He found time to relate to a sceptical Hamilton something of his achievements. "Wonderful case to-day, dear old boy," he said enthusiastically on the third evening. "A naughty old lady has been flirting with a very, very naughty old officer. Husband tremendously annoyed. How that man loves that woman!" "Which man?" said Hamilton cynically. "I refer to my client," said Bones not without dignity. "Look here, Bones," said Hamilton with great seriousness, "do you think this is a very nice business you are in? Personally, I think it's immoral." "What do you mean--immoral?" demanded the indignant Bones. "Prying into other people's lives," said Hamilton.