“When that day dawns, come and see,” she said, “if you wish to wait so long!”

EPILOGUE

THE AFFAIR OF THE MAN WHO HAD BEEN CALLED HAMILTON CLEEK

“Note for you, sir—­messenger just fetched it.  Addressed to ’Captain Burbage,’ so it’ll be from The Yard,” said Dollops, coming into the room with a doughnut in one hand and a square envelope in the other.

Cleek, who had been sitting at his writing-table, with a litter of folded documents, bits of antique jewellery, and what looked like odds and ends of faded ribbon lying before him, swept the whole collection into the table drawer as Dollops spoke and stretched forth his hand for the letter.

It was one of Narkom’s characteristic communications, albeit somewhat shorter than those communications usually were—­a fact which told Cleek at once that the matter was one of immense importance.

“My dear Cleek,” it ran.  “For the love of goodness don’t let anything tempt you into going out to-night.  I shall call about ten.  Foreign government affair—­reward simply enormous.  Look out for me.  Yours, in hot haste—­MAVERICK NARKOM.”

“Be on the lookout for the red limousine,” said Cleek, glancing over at Dollops, who stood waiting for orders.  “It will be along about ten.  That’s all.  You may go.”

“Right you are, Gov’nor.  I’ll keep my eyes peeled, sir.  Lor’!  I do hope it’s summink to do with a restaurant or a cookshop this time.  I could do with a job of that sort—­my word, yes!  I’m fair famishin’.  And, beggin’ pardon, but you don’t look none too healthy yourself this evening, Gov’nor.  Ain’t et summink wot’s disagreed with you, have you, sir?”

“I?  What nonsense!  I’m as fit as a fiddle.  What could make you think otherwise?”

“Oh, I dunno, sir—­only—­Well, if you don’t mind my sayin’ of it, sir, whenever you gets to unlocking of that draw and lookin’ at them things you keep in there—­wotever they is—­you always gets a sort of solemncholy look in the eyes; and you gets white about the gills, and your lips has a pucker to ’em that I don’t like to see.”

“Tommy rot!  Imagination’s a splendid thing for a detective to possess, Dollops, but don’t let yours run away with you in this fashion, my lad, or you’ll never rise above what you are.  Toddle along now, and look out for Mr. Narkom’s arrival.  It’s after nine already, so he’ll soon be here.”

“Anybody a-comin’ with him, sir?”

“I don’t know—­he didn’t say.  Cut along, now; I’m busy!” said Cleek.  Nevertheless, when Dollops had gone and the door was shut and he had the room to himself again, and, if he really did have any business on hand, there was no reason in the world why he should not have set about it, he remained sitting at the table and idly drumming upon it with his finger tips, a deep ridge between his brows and a far-away expression in his fixed, unwinking eyes.  And so he was still sitting when, something like twenty minutes later, the sharp “Toot-toot!” of a motor horn sounded.