ramifications. The counsel he had given O'Hagan seemed most appropriate to
his present needs: One thing at a time. And obviously the first thing that
lay to his hand was the silencing of O'Hagan.

Maitland rallied his wits to the task. "O'Hagan," said he, "this man,
Snaith, who was here this afternoon, called himself a detective. As soon
as we were alone he rapped me over the head with a loaded cane, and, I
suspect, went through the flat stealing everything he could lay hands
on.... Hand me my cigarette case, please."

"'Tis gone, sor--'tis not on the desk, at laste, pwhere I saw ut last."

"Ah! You see?... Now for reasons of my own, which I won't enter into, I
don't want the affair to get out and become public. You understand? I want
you to keep your mouth shut, until I give you permission to open it."

"Very good, sor." The janitor-valet had previous experiences with
Maitland's generosity in grateful memory; and shut his lips tightly in
promise of virtuous reticence.

"You won't regret it.... Now tell me what you mean by saying that you saw
me go out at one this afternoon?"

Again the flood gates were lifted; from the deluge of explanations and
protestations Maitland extracted the general drift of narrative. And in the
end held up his hand for silence.

"I think I understand, now. You say he had changed to my grey suit?"

O'Hagan darted into the bedroom, whence he emerged with confirmation of his