‘Two days later, at an early hour in the morning, I called on Lady Pingle at her house at Epsom with her ladyship’s alleged Pekingese under my arm. I told her how I had found the poor little thing wandering on Wimbledon Common late the night before almost in a state of collapse, had given it food and shelter, and had taken the earliest opportunity to relieve her anxiety by its return. ‘Her gratitude was almost frantic. She kissed the dog ardently, and at one moment I was almost afraid she was going to kiss me too. She did not do that, but she did insist on my breakfasting with her, and I accepted. And let me tell that over-educated sybarite Matthews, with his sneers at casual hospitality, that he himself never breakfasted better. ‘I lunched with Mrs Hastonbury at her residence at Leatherhead. In this way she showed her gratitude for the return of “Bimby”—a chocolate-coloured Pom with a short temper. But I must confess that she was not nearly as quick off the mark as Lady Pingle. I had to inquire about hotels in the neighbourhood before she saw which way her duty lay. ‘The third dog that I had to deliver, a mouldy little pug, belonged to the wife of a curate living much nearer home. She was grateful and she was hospitable. She said that they never dined but that they were just sitting down to high tea, and she hoped I would join them. It was an evening meal substituted for dinner, and I contend that I am entitled to count it as dinner.’ ‘Kindly tell us what you had,’ said the chairman. ‘What? The internal evidence? Certainly. I had cocoa, scrambled eggs, and seed-cake. And I hope you will take a lenient view of it.’ ‘Your hostess herself maintained that it was not dinner, and the internal evidence, as you call it, entirely supports her view. Your career of crime will only give you a score of two. The high tea is disallowed. I will now call upon Major Byles.’ ‘The sacrifice that I made to luck on the occasion of our last competition,’ said Major Byles, ‘has brought me success at last. I claim to be a winner, and await your decision with confidence. It happened that two of my friends both wanted a furnished house at Brightgate for the winter, and did not want the bother of going down to make their selection. I saw my chance at once. I might never have thought of it, but I didn’t miss it when it was shoved at me. I said at once that I was thinking of running down to Brightgate for a day or two, and that it always interested me to look over houses. They told me their requirements and let me take on the job for them. ‘The house-agent at Brightgate had only six houses on his books that were at all suitable. He gave me orders to view, and I started business at eight one morning. I started badly.