"There must be _some_ motive for everything one does--even for smoking this cigarette. If I disliked cigarettes, knew smoking was bad for me, and stood in danger of being fined if I was caught doing it, why should I smoke? I can see no point whatever in Rattar's taking the smallest share even in diverting the course of justice by a hair's breadth. He and you and I have to all appearances identical interests in the matter." "You are wiser than I am," said Ned simply, but with a grim look in his eye, "but all I can say is I am going out with my gun to look for Simon Rattar." Carrington laughed. "I'm afraid you'll have to catch him at something a little better known to the charge-sheets than giving bad advice to a lady client, before it's safe to fire!" said he. "But, look here, Carrington, have you collected no other facts whatever about this case?" Carrington shot him a curious glance, but answered nothing else. "Oh well," said Ned, "if you don't want to say anything yet, don't say it. Play your hand as you think best." "Mr. Cromarty," replied Carrington, "I assure you I don't want to make facts into mysteries, but when they _are_ mysteries--well, I like to think 'em over a bit before I trust myself to talk. In the course of this very afternoon I've collected an assortment either of facts or fiction that seem to have broken loose from a travelling nightmare." "Mind telling where you got 'em?" asked Ned. "Chiefly from Rattar's housemaid, a very excellent but somewhat high-strung and imaginative young woman, and how much to believe of what she told me I honestly don't know. And the more one can believe, the worse the puzzle gets! However, there is one statement which I hope to be able to check. It may throw some light on the lady's veracity generally. Meantime I am like a man trying to build a house of what may be bricks or may be paper bags." Ned rose with his usual prompt decision. "I see," said he. "And I guess you find one better company than two at this particular moment. I won't shoot Simon Rattar till I hear from you, though by Gad, I'm tempted to kick him just to be going on with! But look here, Carrington, if my services will ever do you the least bit of good--in fact, so long as I'm not actually in the way--just send me a wire and I'll come straight. You won't refuse me that?" Carrington looked at the six feet two inches of pure lean muscle and smiled. "Not likely!" he said. "That's not the sort of offer I refuse. I won't hesitate to wire if there's anything happening. But don't count on it. I can't see any business doing just yet." Ned held out his hand, and then suddenly said, "You don't see any business doing just yet? But you feel you're on his track, sure! Now, don't you?" Carrington glanced at him out of an eye half quizzical, half abstracted. "Whose track?" he asked. Ned paused for a second and then rapped out: "Was it Simon himself?"