dinner jacket.

"I am convinced that Heath will have to be forced to speak, and, I may
as well be honest with you--I don't like forcing him."

Coryndon was not watching his host, he was leaning back in his chair,
his eyes on a little spiral of smoke that circled up from his cigarette.

"I wish that damned little Absalom had never been heard of, and that it
was anybody's business but mine to find him, if he is to be found."

If Coryndon's finely-cut lips trembled into an instantaneous smile, it
passed almost at once, and he looked quietly round at Hartley, who still
paced, looking like an overgrown schoolboy in a bad mood.

"I wish I could help you, Hartley, but I have not enough to go on. As
you say, the case is unusual, and it makes it impossible for me to
advise." He got up and stretched himself. "There is one thing I will
do, if you wish it, and, from what you said, you may wish it; I will
take over the whole thing--for my holiday, and the Wagner Cycle will
have to wait."

Hartley came to a standstill before his guest.

"You'll do that, Coryndon?"

"The case interests me," said Coryndon, "otherwise, I should not suggest
it." He paused for a moment and reflected. "I shall have to make your
bungalow my headquarters; that is the simplest plan. Any absences may be
accounted for by shooting trips and that sort of thing. That part of it