But in the hot-headed asininity which I had not the sense to master in those days, I had flared up to the quiet, but firm, remonstrance of my chief. It had been a case in which I had exceeded my orders, and I thought he ought rather to have applauded my zeal. So that; in that blurting, blubbering fashion of the man who can’t keep his temper, I had let out a string of heated nonsense. Whereupon Chief Garth’s tone had raised not a whit. “Well, Grey,” said he slowly--too slowly, “I’m sorry, though I was afraid it would have to come. I had hoped it wouldn’t; but I simply cannot brook such repeated displays of inability to control your temper. I might waive the personal note; but I must not lose sight of the fact that such a trait, unmastered, makes you less a man to be relied upon.” I started to interrupt him, but a gesture checked me. “You remember,” said he, holding his same evenness, “that I told you the very first day you entered the detective service that orders were orders, and that I was distinctly a martinet. Now, I like you, and I’m not chary of admitting that you’re a very valuable man to me in many ways. But----” And here I had been fool enough to whirl into my usual, youthful burst of independence. As I look back upon the scene, the chief was too moderate; though I did flounce from his office finally, with my pay to date and walking papers. But now--what a change one look into certain eyes can make--I sat there on that hotel porch and realized what an ass I was. And, by the way, such a realization proved most salutary. For, next instant, I made up my mind to eat “humble pie.” I wouldn’t waste a minute in finding the chief. I would make a straightforward apology and ask him to reinstate me. Of course, it was long past office hours, but I decided not to let my resolution cool. I knew where Chief Garth lived, and could count pretty well upon his being at home; for that little wife of his held him snug enough by her whenever he wasn’t personally engaged on an important case. So I bolted my meal, and caught the ferryboat which landed at East Ninety-ninth Street. I even took a taxi to his house, so firmly did my new resolution grip me. Finally we whirled the last corner, and brought up sharp before Chief Garth’s house, which was brilliantly enough indicated by a Welsbach light in the vestibule. It showed the number plainly, and, just as I stepped from the cab and paid my fare, it showed more. For, at this moment, the door opened. I heard a word or two exchanged; then the door closed, and a man came down the stoop as hurriedly as a slight limp would let him. He passed close by me as I was about to mount the steps, and I experienced that uncomfortable sensation of having seen him some time, but no more. Such a haunting inability to spot my man is one of my worst points as a detective. “Anyway,” thought I, “whoever he is, he’s in about as bad a temper as I’ve ever seen ’em.”