cook.'

He pondered the point for a moment. When he spoke again, it was to
touch on a still more profound problem.

'If you wanted a halfpenny to make up twopence to buy a lizard,
what would you do, sir?'

He got it.

Ogden Ford, the El Dorado of the kidnapping industry, entered
Sanstead House at a quarter past nine that evening. He was
preceded by a Worried Look, Mr Arnold Abney, a cabman bearing a
large box, and the odd-job man carrying two suitcases. I have
given precedence to the Worried Look because it was a thing by
itself. To say that Mr Abney wore it would be to create a wrong
impression. Mr Abney simply followed in its wake. He was concealed
behind it much as Macbeth's army was concealed behind the woods of
Dunsinane.

I only caught a glimpse of Ogden as Mr Abney showed him into his
study. He seemed a self-possessed boy, very like but, if anything,
uglier than the portrait of him which I had seen at the Hotel
Guelph.

A moment later the door opened, and my employer came out. He
appeared relieved at seeing me.

'Ah, Mr Burns, I was about to go in search of you. Can you spare
me a moment? Let us go into the dining-room.'