“The art of being happy,” he said as he pushed back his plate and lit a cigarette, “is to want nothing. Then you’re always getting more than you need. How is your sister?” “She’s all right,” said Ray indifferently. “Ella’s the same mind as you. It’s easy to be a philosopher over other people’s worries. Who’s that disreputable bird?” he added, as a man seated himself at a table opposite to them. Philo fixed his glasses—he was a little near-sighted. “That’s Elk—a Scotland Yard man,” he said, and grinned at the new-comer, a recognition which, to Ray’s annoyance—and his annoyance was tinged with uneasiness—brought the seedy man to their table. “This is my friend, Mr. Bennett—Inspector Elk, Ray.” “Sergeant,” suggested Elk dourly. “Fate has always been against me in the matter of promotion. Can’t remember dates.” So far from making a secret of his failure, Mr. Elk was never tired of discussing the cause. “Though why a man is a better thief-taker for knowin’ when George Washington was born and when Napoleon Bonaparte died, is a mystery to me. Dine here every day, Mr. Bennett?” Ray nodded. “Know your father, I think—John Bennett of Horsham, isn’t it? Thought so.” In desperation Ray got up with an excuse and left them alone. “Nice boy, that,” said Elk. CHAPTER V MR. MAITLAND GOES HOME THEY were nearing the imposing home of Maitlands Consolidated, when Mr. Johnson suddenly broke off in the middle of an interesting exposition of his philosophy and quickened his pace. On the pavement ahead of them he saw Ray Bennett, and by his side the slim figure of a girl. Their backs were toward the two men, but Elk guessed rightly when he decided that the girl was Ella Bennett. He had seen her twice before, and he had a wonderful memory for backs. Turning as the stout man came up to her, hat in hand, she greeted him with a quick and friendly smile. “This is an unexpected pleasure, Miss Bennett.” There was a pink tinge to Johnson’s homely face (“Sweet on her,” thought Elk, interested), and his handshake was warm and something more than cordial. “I didn’t intend coming to town, but father has gone off on one of his mysterious excursions,” she said with a little laugh, “this time to the West. And, curiously enough, I am absolutely sure I saw him on a ’bus just now, though his train left two hours ago.” She glanced at Elk hovering in the background, and the sight of his glum countenance seemed to arouse some unpleasant memory, for the brightness went out of her face. “My friend, Mr. Elk,” said Johnson a little awkwardly, and Elk nodded. “Glad to meet you, Miss Bennett,” he said, and noted Ray’s annoyance with inward satisfaction which, in a more cheerful man, would have been mirth. She bowed slightly and then said something in a low tone to her brother. Elk saw the boy frown. “I shan’t be very late,” he said, loudly enough for the detective to hear.