Reaching my small library, the officer seated himself at my invitation and depositing hat and stick very precisely beneath his chair, sat looking more unctuously mild than ever, there was about him a vague suggestion of conventicles, and a holy Sabbatarian calm. "You said your name was Shrig, I think?" said I. "Jarsper Shrig, sir, at your sarvice." "Then perhaps, while I write my letter, you will take a glass of wine, Mr. Shrig?" "Sir," he answered, "not beating about no bushes, I vill--Mr. Werricker, sir." "You know my name?" I exclaimed a little sharply. "I dedooce same, sir, from them three letters on your secretary as is a-staring me straight in the face, Mr. Werricker." "Pray, Anthony, oblige me by ringing the bell!" said I, taking up my pen. Soft-treading, the discreet Clegg duly brought in decanter and glasses, and Mr. Shrig, watching him pour out the wine, drew from his capacious pocket a little book and opened it, much as though he would have read forth a text of Scripture, but all he said was: "Thank 'ee, my man!" and then, as the door closed upon the discreetly silent Clegg, "Your 'ealth, gen'elmen!" The letter to my uncle Jervas being written and despatched, I turned to find Mr. Shrig busied with his little book and a stumpy pencil, much as if he had been composing a sermon or address, while Anthony, lounging upon the settee, watched him with lazy interest. "A on-commonly taking cove, sir, that young man o' yourn!" said Mr. Shrig, pocketing book and pencil. "Not more so than other servants, I believe," I answered. "And all valets," murmured Anthony, "all valets are predatory by nature, of course--" "I mean as he's a likely cove. Now, talkin' o' corpses--" began Mr. Shrig. "But we are not!" said I. "Axing your parding, sir, but I am and, perfessionally speakin', never 'ave I seen a prettier corp', than this 'ere young fe-male in question--" "And your experience in such is vast, I take it?" murmured Anthony. "None waster, sir! Wast is the werry vord for it." "Do you think this is a case of suicide or murder?" enquired Anthony. "Can't say, sir. But somevun's allvays bein' murdered, murderin' or goin' for to murder somevun, somevere or t'other." "Sounds cheery!" murmured Anthony. "Do you catch many murderers?" "Pretty fair, sir, pretty fair. I got a special aptitood for it; I can smell murder in the werry air, feel it, taste it--" "Must be devilish unpleasant!" said Anthony. "'Tis a nat'ral gift wi' me, sir. Lord love ye, gen'elmen, I can p'int you out a murderer afore the fact's committed--I've got the names o' four on 'em--no, five--wrote down in my little reader, five werry promisin' coves as is doo for the deed at any moment; I'm a vaitin' for 'em to bring it off, sirs. Lord, I'm a vatchin' over 'em like a feyther an' mother rolled into vun, an' v'en they do commit the deed, I shall appre'end 'em red-'anded an' up they'll go."