house in which Hewitt's office was situated, and in an upper floor of
which I occupied bachelor chambers. I was able to help in saving a
quantity of extremely important papers relating to his business, and,
while repairs were being made, allowed him to lock them in an old
wall-safe in one of my rooms which the fire had scarcely damaged.

The acquaintance thus begun has lasted many years, and has become a rather
close friendship. I have even accompanied Hewitt on some of his
expeditions, and, in a humble way, helped him. Such of the cases, however,
as I personally saw nothing of I have put into narrative form from the
particulars given me.

"I consider you, Brett," he said, addressing me, "the most remarkable
journalist alive. Not because you're particularly clever, you know,
because, between ourselves, I hope you'll admit you're not; but because
you have known something of me and my doings for some years, and have
never yet been guilty of giving away any of my little business secrets you
may have become acquainted with. I'm afraid you're not so enterprising a
journalist as some, Brett. But now, since you ask, you shall write
something--if you think it worth while."

This he said, as he said most things, with a cheery, chaffing good-nature
that would have been, perhaps, surprising to a stranger who thought of him
only as a grim and mysterious discoverer of secrets and crimes. Indeed,
the man had always as little of the aspect of the conventional detective
as may be imagined. Nobody could appear more cordial or less observant in
manner, although there was to be seen a certain sharpness of the
eye--which might, after all, only be the twinkle of good humor.

I _did_ think it worth while to write something of Martin Hewitt's