This Curtis was a small, wizened old man, of obsolete cut, but with
remarkably up-to-date manners, and a pair of keen little eyes, penetrating
as Roentgen rays. His hair was weedy, and his clothes snuffy and
ill-fitting; but spite of this there was something uncommonly brisk and
wide awake about the little man, and a certain business-like directness in
his manner which impressed me favourably. I felt hopeful at once.

One of the first remarks he addressed to me--for we primarily discussed
the financial aspect of his services--struck me by reason of its
uncompromising common sense. "Five guineas down and another three next
Tuesday, miss, and I make no inquiry where the money comes from," he said,
"not so long as it is the current coin of the realm and paid punctually.
Without this, however, I cannot undertake or proceed with the case."

On my immediately producing the required sum he requested me to be
seated, and sitting down opposite me himself, he asked me for full
particulars of the case. These I gave him to the best of my ability and he
took notes.

The question of witnesses he tackled with the same uncompromising lack of
veneer which had characterised his remarks on the money question.
"Witnesses to character and so forth must be found," he said, "the more
authentic and reputable the better, but at all costs they must be
procured. Whom can you suggest?"

I confessed that I could for the moment think of nobody.

"You will think of somebody," he replied persuasively, "you _must_
remember somebody," and there was that in his voice which did not brook or