The inspector evidently had not expected to find the matter taken in this way. “Well, sir,” he said tentatively, “I thought perhaps you might be interested.” “Intensely, inspector, intensely. Come and tell me all about it when it's cleared up. I wouldn't miss it.” Faint signs of exasperation betrayed themselves in the inspector's face. “I thought, perhaps, sir, that you'd care to come over with me and look into the thing yourself. It seems a bit mysterious.” Sir Clinton stared at him in well-assumed amazement. “We seem to be rather at cross-purposes, inspector. Let's be clear. First of all, I'm on holiday just now, and criminal affairs have nothing to do with me. Second, even if I weren't on holiday, a chief constable isn't specially attached to the find-'em-and-grab-'em branch of the service. Third, it might cause professional jealousy, heart-burnings, and what not, if I butted into a detective's case. What do you think?” “It's my case,” Armadale said, abandoning all further attempt at camouflage. “The plain truth is, from all I heard over the 'phone, that it seems a rum business; and I'd like to have your opinion on it, if you'd be so good as to give me it after you've examined things for yourself.” Sir Clinton's face relaxed. “Ah,” he confessed. “Now I seem to have some glimmerings of what you're after; and, since there's no question of my having interfered without being asked, I might look into the affair. But if I'm doing you a favour—as you seem to think—then I'm going to lay down one condition, _sine qua non_. Mr. Wendover's interested in detective work. He knows all the classics: Sherlock Holmes, Hanaud, Thorndyke, etc. So, if I come in, then he's to be allowed to join us. Agree to that, inspector?” The inspector looked rather sourly at Wendover, as though trying to estimate how great a nuisance he was likely to prove; but, as Sir Clinton's assistance could evidently be secured only at a price, Armadale gave a rather ungracious consent to the proposed arrangement. Sir Clinton seemed almost to regret his own decision. “I'd hardly bargained for a bus-driver's holiday,” he said rather ruefully. A glance at the inspector's face showed that the expression had missed its mark. Sir Clinton made his meaning clearer. “In the old horse-bus days, inspector, it was rumoured that when a bus-driver got a holiday he spent it on somebody else's bus, picking up tips from the driver. It seems that you want me to spend my holiday watching you do police work and picking up tips from your methods.” Inspector Armadale evidently suspected something behind the politeness with which Sir Clinton had turned his phrase. He looked rather glumly at his superior as he replied: “I see I'm going to get the usual mixture, sir—help and sarcasm, half and half. Well, my hide's been tanned already; and your help's worth it.” Sir Clinton corrected him with an air of exactitude.