“That’s right, sir,” said Superintendent Bell. “If it wasn’t for Mr. Fortune he’d be down and out. What you might call a rarity in our work, that is, to save a man from a charge of murder before it comes along.” “How do you mean?” Reggie seemed to come back from other thoughts. “Oh, because I told you to have Kimball watched. Well, it was pretty clear he wasn’t the kind to go about without a chaperon. We took that trick. I suppose Kimball’s thinking, wherever he is, that we won the game. But I wouldn’t say that--I wouldn’t say that. Why did he hate Sandford?” “My dear fellow, the man was mad.” “You mean he didn’t like the way Sandford does his hair--or he thought Sandford was a German spy. No. He wasn’t that kind of mad. There’s something we don’t know, Lomas, old thing. I dare say it’s crazy enough. I’ll bet you my favourite shirt it’s something the ordinary sane man feels.” “If we are to go looking for something crazy which sane men feel!” said Lomas. “Speakin’ broadly, all the human emotions,” said Reggie. “Didn’t you ever hate a man because he married a girl who was pretty? Don’t be so godlike.” “They weren’t either of them married, sir,” said Bell, in grave surprise. “How do you know?” Reggie snapped. “No, I don’t suppose they were. But we don’t know. We don’t know anything. That’s why I say we haven’t won the game. Well, well. For God’s sake let’s have some food! There was a modest pub in the village. I saw it when you let off your futile scream at the traction-engine. Let’s go. I don’t seem to want to eat Kimball’s grub.” PHASE VI.--JANE BROWN Two or three days after Lomas received an invitation to lunch in Wimpole Street. “I owe you one,” Reggie wrote. “I owe myself one. I want to forget the high tea of Alwynstow. Do you remember the pickles? And the bacon? What had that pig been doing? A neurasthenic, I fear. A student of the Nematoda.” So naturally when Lomas came his first question was what may Nematoda be. “Never mind,” Reggie sighed. “It’s a painful subject. A disgusting subject. Same like what we make our living by. They are among the criminals of animal life. Real bad eggs. A sad world, Lomas, old thing. Let’s forget all about crime.” They did. For an hour and a half. At the end of which Lomas said dreamily, “You’re a remarkable fellow, Fortune. I don’t know how you can retain any brain. You do yourself so well. Yes, most seductive habit of life. I meant to say something when I came. What was it? I believe you have talked of everything else in creation. Ah, yes, did you ever hear of the Kimball case? Well, I think we have combed it all out.” “Have you, though?” Reggie sat up. “Yes. We’ve been dealing with a stockbroker or two. I’m really afraid there was a little bullying. We hinted that there might be developments about a certain murder case. And two of them began to talk. We’ve got Rand-Mason’s past.”