me to sanction his going over there on no better evidence than that.  Of course, I wouldn’t; so I took him off the case forthwith, and set out to get another and a better man to handle it.  That’s what delayed me.  And now, Mr. Van Nant”—­fairly beaming, and rubbing his palms together delightedly—­“here’s where the great and welcome news I spoke of comes in.  I remembered what you said the other day—­I remembered how your heart is wrapped up in the solving of this great puzzle—­what you said about it being a question of money alone; and so, what do you think I did?  I went to that great man, Cleek.  I laid the matter before him, told him there was no reward, that it was just a matter of sheer humanity—­the consciousness of doing his duty and helping another fellow in distress—­and, throw up your hat and cheer, my dear fellow, for you’ve got your heart’s desire:  Cleek’s consented to take the case!”

A little flurry of excitement greeted this announcement.  Miss Morrison grabbed his hand and burst into tears of gratitude; the Captain, forgetting in his delight the state of his injured foot, rose from his chair, only to remember suddenly and sit down again, his half-uttered cheer dying on his lips; and Van Nant, as if overcome by this unexpected boon, this granting of a wish he had never dared to hope would be fulfilled, could only clap both hands over his face and sob hysterically.

“Cleek!” he said, in a voice that shook with nervous catches and the emotion of a soul deeply stirred, “Cleek to take the case?  The great, the amazing, the undeceivable Cleek!  Oh, Mr. Narkom, can this be true?”

“As true as that you are standing here this minute, my dear sir.  Not so much of a money grabber as that muff Headland? wanted you to believe, is he—­eh?  Waived every hope of a reward, and took the case on the spot.  He’ll get at the root of it—­Lord, yes!  Lay you a sovereign to a sixpence, Mr. Van Nant, he gets to the bottom of it and finds out what became of George Carboys in forty-eight hours after he begins on the case.”

“And when will he begin, Mr. Narkom?  To-morrow?  The next day?  Or not this week at all?  When, sir—­when?”

“When?  Why, bless your heart, man, he’s begun already—­or, at least, will do so in another hour and a half.  He’s promised to meet us at your house at eleven o’clock to-night.  Chose that place because he lives at Putney, and it’s nearer.  Eleven was the hour he set, though, of course, he may arrive sooner; there’s no counting on an erratic fellow like that chap.  So we’ll make it eleven, and possess our souls in patience until it’s time to start.”

“But, my dear Mr. Narkom, wouldn’t it be better, or, at least, more hospitable if I went over to meet him, in case he does come earlier?  There’s no one in the house, remember, and it’s locked up.”

“Lord bless you, that won’t bother him!  Never travels without his tools, you know—­skeleton keys, and all that—­and he’ll be in the house before you can wink an eye.  Still, of course, if you’d rather be there to admit him in the regulation way—­”