looked through large brown and sparkling eyes, a full brown beard covered
his face and his head was covered with a heavy suit of hair somewhat
darker than his beard.

"Lucas," said the older man to a stalwart colored attendant, "you can go
now, and be sure to admit no one until I ring."

The speaker was the chief of the Bow Street detective service; the other
was his youngest colleague. His name was Job Worth. He had belonged to
the force three years, and in several instances had achieved more than
ordinary success. He was known as Number 11. Job had graduated four years
ago from Burrough Road Institute, and soon after received an appointment
of secretary of the Legation at Washington, United States. In this
honorable office he had spent one year, but the work did not suit his
strenuous nature, and he returned home and soon afterward received an
appointment in this detective service. Job was known in the force as
quiet, self-contained, observant, patient, and was possessed of an
extraordinarily retentive memory. Rarely was it necessary for him to say,
"I have forgotten."

"Major," said Worth, as soon as they were alone, "I asked this private
interview to talk to you about the bank robbery which occurred on the
eleventh of last April."

"Well," replied the chief, "do you know anything new?"

"No, nothing certain, but I have a new suspicion."

"Suspicion," said the other, "suspicion doesn't amount to much. But what
do you suspect?"