"'Cause no one know he home but Mr. Barnes. Thees house close up much long time and Mr. Gladwin make papers say he in Egypt." In the same breath in which he maximed this volley of words the little Jap projectiled himself from the room. "His deductions are marvellous," said Whitney Barnes, solemnly addressing a bronze bust of Philip of Macedon. He turned in time to meet the brisk entrance of Travers Gladwin, alias Thomas Smith of the Ritz. The two shook hands warmly and looked into each other's faces with quizzical smiles. They were about of an age, both unusually good looking and bearing themselves with that breezy, confident manner that is characteristic of young men who have been coddled in swan's-down all their lives. "Well, well, well, Travers!" "Hello, Whitney, old boy!" The greeting sprang from their lips simultaneously, and after he had tossed his hat and cane to his valet Travers Gladwin continued: "Didn't expect to see me so soon, did you, old scout?" "I should say I didn't. Why, when I got that telegram of yours to call up Thomas Smith at the Ritz it certainly was some jar to my delicate nervous system." Travers Gladwin laughed and rubbed his hands. "Did it, though?" he cried. "Gave you a real thrill, eh?" "Exact and specific--a real thrill." "Well, you're lucky--a surprise and a thrill. I'd give anything for a real surprise--I've hunted this little planet's four corners for one and failed to connect." "If you can't achieve 'em you seem to be in the business of manufacturing 'em. Come along now, what's all this thundering mystery. I'm shot to pieces with curiosity. What's happened to make you come home like this?" "Watkins!" replied Travers Gladwin curtly. "Watkins! What Watkins? Who's Watkins?" "Watkins is my man--I mean, Watkins was my man before I found out that he was systematically robbing me." "Oh, I remember now. A jolly good servant, though. So he robbed you, did he? But they all do." "Yes, but they don't always get found out--caught with the goods, as the police say. I caught Watkins with the goods and sacked him." "But you don't mean to tell me that you came kiting home from the pyramids and the lovely Sahara desert just because this chap Watkins was dishonest?" said Whitney Barnes, in tones of incredulity. "No, Whitney," replied Gladwin, dropping into a chair and puckering his forehead with a frown. "Watkins was only the start of it. I got rid of him six months ago. But while I was on my way to Egypt I learned that Watkins and my lawyer had been in some sort of a secret correspondence before I gave Watkins the bounce." "What lawyer? Not 'Old Reliable' Forbes? Why, I thought he wore a certified halo." "So did I, but I've got news to the contrary, and you know he has charge of everything for me--keeps all my securities--has a power of attorney--signs checks and all that." "That sounds bad," said Whitney Barnes, sympathetically. "The old saint could come pretty close to ruining you."