Eve brought in to her husband, who had improved his moral stamina and his physical charm by means of the finest of his dressing-gowns, a dark, thin young man, clothed to marvellous perfection, with a much-loved moustache, and looking as fresh as if he was just going to a party. Mr. Prohack of course recognised him as one of the guests.
"Good morning," said Mr. Prohack. "So you are the detective."
"Yes, sir," answered the detective, formally.
"Do you know, all the evening I was under the impression that you were First Secretary to the Czecho-Slovakian Legation."
"No, sir," answered the detective, formally.
"Well! Well! I think there is a proverb to the effect that appearances are deceptive."
"Is there indeed, sir?" said the detective, with unshaken gravity. "In our business we think that appearances ought to be deceptive."
"Now talking of your business," Mr. Prohack remarked with one of his efforts to be very persuasive. "What about this unfortunate affair?"
"Yes, sir, what about it?" The detective looked askance at Eve.
"I suppose there's no doubt the thing's been stolen—By the way, sit on the end of the bed, will you? Then you'll be near me."