“Who else, signore? Am I not Valombroso?”
Mr Shapter shrugged his shoulders. But he had carte blanche from Johnny to employ whom he pleased; and expense was no consideration.
“Well, have you any objection, Jannaway?” he asked resignedly.
“None whatever, sir,” answered the inspector. “It won’t be the first time me and Mr Holmes have met over a case. He’s got the makings of a respectable detective in him, or used to have; and if he should come to fail here, like Mr Valombroso, why, there’s still me to fall back upon for a forlorn hope.”
What did he mean? Had he or had he not something up his sleeve, which he was retaining merely for the greater discomfiture of his rival, should that gentleman once come to admit his own defeat? Nothing could be plausibly guessed but that he felt himself aggrieved over our moral assumption of the other’s supremacy, and was regarding with a mischievous enjoyment some faux pas into which our mistaken faith was leading us. It seemed incredible that a man of his reputation could have no ideas in the matter. We could so little believe it, in fact, that, through all this puzzling perversity of his mood, it never occurred to us for a moment, I think, to dispense with his services, negative as those were. At the very least, he might become, as he himself suggested, our ark of refuge.
Valombroso snorted fearfully over the assumption of his failure.
“You, to think you shall see to the end of my resource, Inspec-tar-r-r-r Jannaway!” he said, and ended with a furious ironic laugh.
Jannaway stood impassive.
“Very well, then,” said Mr Shapter hastily. “I will telegraph to Mr Holmes. I cannot, of course, answer for his being disengaged at the moment.”
But fortunately a favourable answer was received. Mr Holmes himself would follow by the midday train.