“If you want my candid opinion,” said Alec carefully, after a little pause, “I think that you’re making mountains out of molehills. In other words, attaching too much importance to trifles. After all, when you come to think of it there’s nothing particularly serious in any of the things you mentioned, is there? And you can’t tell; there may be a perfectly innocent explanation even for Jefferson and Mrs. Plant.” Roger smoked thoughtfully for a minute or two. “There may be, of course,” he said at length; “in fact, I hope to goodness there is. But as for the rest, I agree with you that they’re only molehills in themselves; but don’t forget that if you pile sufficient molehills on top of each other you get a mountain. And that’s what I can’t help thinking is the case here. Separately these little facts are nothing; but collectively they make me wonder rather furiously.” Alec shrugged his shoulders. “Curiosity killed the cat,” he remarked pointedly. “Possibly,” Roger laughed. “But I’m not a cat, and I thrive on it. Anyway, my mind’s made up on one point. I’m going to nose round and just see whether there isn’t any more to be found out. I liked old Stanworth, and as long as it seems to me that there’s the least possibility of his having been——” He checked himself abruptly. “Of all not being quite as it should,” he resumed after a momentary pause. “Well, I’m going to make it my business to look into it. Now, what I want to ask you is—will you help me?” Alec regarded his friend silently for a minute or two, his hand cradling the bowl of the pipe he was smoking. “Yes,” he announced at length; “on one condition. That whatever you may find out, you won’t take any important steps without telling me. You see, I don’t know that I consider this absolutely playing the game in a way; and I want——” “You can make yourself easy on that score,” Roger smiled. “If we go into it, we go in together; and I won’t do anything, not only without telling you, but even without your consent. That’s only fair.” “And you’ll let me know anything you may find out as you go along?” asked Alec suspiciously. “Not keep things up your sleeve, like Holmes did to old Watson?” “Of course not, my dear chap! If it comes to that, I don’t suppose I could if I wanted to. I must have somebody to confide in.” “You’ll make a rotten detective, Roger,” Alec grinned. “You gas too much. The best detectives are thin-lipped, hatchet-faced devils who creep about the place not saying a word to anybody.” “In the story-books. You bet they don’t in real life. I expect they talk their heads off to their seconds-in-command. It’s so jolly helpful. Holmes must have missed an awful lot by not letting himself go to Watson. For one thing, the very act of talking helps one to clarify one’s own ideas and suggests further ones.” “Your ideas ought to be pretty clear then,” said Alec rudely.