and things of that kind, and as to my dispatch-box, there's not much
there either. I hardly know what there is--I haven't looked inside it for
ever so long. There may be a few private letters."

"What sort of letters?" asked the inspector.

To Bobby this sounded menacing.

"Oh, I don't know; perhaps there may be one or two--well, what shall I
call them?--love letters, I suppose. Anyhow, here are the keys." He
handed them over to the other man as he spoke.

"Call a cab." The inspector spoke to his subordinate.

"I say," asked Bobby apprehensively, "am I going to be locked up?"

The inspector hesitated slightly. Bobby's innocence seemed to strike him.
He was not the sort of person he was used to arresting.

"I am afraid it's more than likely, Mr. Froelich."

"Can't I change my clothes?" queried Bobby. "You see, I've got on evening
dress, and I suppose I shan't have a chance of getting out of it."

The inspector reflected a moment.

"Oh yes, Mr. Froelich. I don't see why you should not change, but I'm
afraid I must ask you to let me accompany you."

"Well, I'm--D'you think I'm going to try and escape?"