That night I bided his coming with an impatience I could not control.
He was late, of course, but when he did appear, I almost forgot our
usual greeting in my hurry to ask him if he had seen the evening
papers.

"No," he grumbled, as he hung up his overcoat. "Been pushed about
all day. No time for anything."

"Then let me tell you--"

But he would have dinner first.

However, a little later we had a comfortable chat. Mr. Gryce had
made a discovery, and the papers were full of it. It was one which
gave me a small triumph over George. The suggestion he had laughed
at was not so entirely foolish as he had been pleased to consider
it. But let me tell the story of that day, without any further
reference to myself.

The opinion had become quite general with those best acquainted
with the details of this affair, that the mystery was one of those
abnormal ones for which no solution would ever be found, when the
aged detective showed himself in the building and was taken to the
room, where an Inspector of Police awaited him. Their greeting
was cordial, and the lines on the latter's face relaxed a little
as he met the still bright eye of the man upon whose instinct
and judgment so much reliance had always been placed.

"This is very good of you," he began, glancing down at the aged
detective's bundled up legs, and gently pushing a chair towards