"Lives," retorted the oracular Bones, "are meant to be pried into, dear old thing. An examination of jolly old motives is essential to scientific progress. I feel I am doing a public duty," he went on virtuously, "exposing the naughty, chastising the sinful, and all that sort of thing." "But, honestly," said Hamilton persistently, "do you think it's the game to chase around collecting purely private details about people's goings on?" "Certainly," said Bones firmly, "certainly, dear old thing. It's a public duty. Never let it be written on the fair pages of Thiggumy that a Tibbetts shrank back when the call of patriotism--all that sort of thing--you know what I mean?" "I don't," said Hamilton. "Well, you're a jolly old dense one," said Bones. "And let me say here and now"--he rammed his bony knuckles on the table and withdrew them with an "Ouch!" to suck away the pain--"let me tell you that, as the Latin poet said, '_Ad What's-his name, ad Thiggumy_.' 'Everything human's frightfully interesting'!" Bones turned up at his detective office the next morning, full of zeal, and Hilton immediately joined him in his private office. "Well, we finish one case to-day, I think," said Hilton with satisfaction. "It has been very hard trailing him, but I got a good man on the job, and here's the record." He held in his hand a sheaf of papers. "Very good," said Bones. "Excellent! I hope we shall bring the malefactor to justice." "He's not exactly a malefactor," demurred Hilton. "It is a job we were doing for one of our best clients." "Excellent, excellent!" murmured Bones. "And well we've done it, I'm sure." He leant back in his chair and half closed his eyes. "Tell me what you have discovered." "This man's a bit of a fool in some ways," said Hilton. "Which man--the client?" "No, the fellow we've been trailing." "Yes, yes," said Bones. "Go on." "In fact, I wonder that Mr. de Vinne bothered about him." "De Vinne?" said Bones sitting up. "Harold de Vinne, the moneyed one?" "That's him. He's one of our oldest customers," said Hilton. "Indeed," said Bones, this time without any enthusiasm at all. "You see, a man did him in the eye," explained Mr. Hilton, "swindled him, and all that sort of thing. Well, I think we have got enough to make this chap look silly." "Oh, yes," said Bones politely. "What have you got?" "Well, it appears," said Hilton, "that this chap is madly in love with his typist." "Which chap?" said Bones. "The fellow who did Mr. de Vinne in the eye," replied the patient Mr. Hilton. "He used to be an officer on the West Coast of Africa, and was known as Bones. His real name is Tibbetts." "Oh yes," said Bones. "Well, we've found out all about him," continued Hilton. "He's got a flat in Jermyn Street, and this girl of his, this typist girl, dines with him. She's not a bad-looking girl, mind you." Bones rose to his feet, and there was in his face a terrible look.