conceive his having had a friend," said Mr. Manley in a tone of some
bitterness.

"Then it's certainly a case with possibilities," said Mr. Flexen in a
pleased tone. "But I expect that the solution will be quite simple. It
generally is."

He said it rather sadly, as if he would have much preferred the solution
to be difficult.

"Let's hope so. A big newspaper fuss will be detestable for Lady
Loudwater. She's a charming creature," said Mr. Manley.

"So I've heard. Do you know who the man was that Loudwater was making a
fuss about?"

"I haven't the slightest idea. Probably the maid, Elizabeth Twitcher,
will be able to tell you," said Mr. Manley.

Mr. Flexen walked across the room and drew the knife out of the pad of
blotting-paper by the ring in its handle, and studied it.

"I suppose this is the knife that was in the library? They're pretty
common," he said.

Mr. Manley came to him, looked at it earnestly, and said: "That's it all
right. I tried to sharpen it a day or two ago, so that it would sharpen a
pencil. I generally leave my penknife in the waist-coat I'm not wearing.
But I couldn't get it sharp enough. It's rotten steel."