“Yes, Inspector, I remember Mr. Bennett speaking to me. We were discussing animal photography.” “You’re sure of the time?” “Absolutely. At two o’clock the patrol sergeant visits me, and he came up whilst we were talking.” The patrol sergeant, wakened from his morning sleep, confirmed this statement. The result of the Kingbridge inquiries produced the same results. Elk ordered the driver of his car to return to Horsham. “I’m not going to apologize to you, Bennett,” he said, “and you know enough about my work to appreciate my position.” “I’m not complaining,” said Bennett gruffly. “Duty is duty. But I’m entitled to know why you suspect me of all men in the world.” Elk tapped the window of the car and it stopped. “Walk along the road: I can talk better,” he said. They got out and went some distance without speaking. “Bennett, you’re under suspicion for two reasons. You’re a mystery man in the sense that nobody knows how you get a living. You haven’t an income of your own. You haven’t an occupation, and at odd intervals you disappear from home and nobody knows where you go. If you were a younger man I’d suspect a double life in the usual sense. But you’re not that kind. That is suspicious circumstance Number One. Here is Number Two. Every time you disappear there’s a big burglary somewhere. And I’ve an idea it’s a Frog steal. I’ll give you my theory. These Frogs are mostly dirt. There isn’t enough brain in the whole outfit to fill an average nut—I’m talking about the mass of ’em. There are clever men higher up, I grant. But they don’t include the regular fellows who make a living from crime. These boys haven’t any time for such nonsense. They plan a job and pull it off, or they get pinched. If they make a getaway, they divide up the stuff and sit around in cafés with girls till all the stuff is gone, and then they go out for some more. But the Frogs are willing to pay good men who are outside the organization for extra work.” “And you suggest that I may be one of the ‘good men’?” said Bennett. “That’s just what I am suggesting. This Frog job at Lord Farmley’s was done by an expert—it looks like Saul Morris.” His keen eyes were focused upon Bennett’s face, but not by so much as a flicker of an eyelash did he betray his thoughts. “I remember Saul Morris,” said Bennett slowly. “I’ve never seen him, but I’ve heard of his work. Was he—anything like me?” Elk pursed his lips, his chin went nearer to his chest, and his gaze became more and more intensified. “If you know anything about Saul Morris,” he said slowly, “you also know that he was never in the hands of the police, that nobody except his own gang ever saw him, so as to be able to recognize him again.” Another silence. “I wasn’t aware of that,” said Bennett. On the way back to the car, Bennett spoke again.