“Am I to have the privilege of working with you, Mr. Stone?” inquired Hardy, his heart beating tumultuously lest he receive a negative answer.
“If you care to. And if you are willing to work in my way. I am somewhat impatient of interference or questioning. But, if you want to assist in investigating, under my absolute orders, I shall be glad to have you do so.”
Nothing was further from Hardy’s mind than to interfere or to show any undue curiosity concerning the work or methods of the great Detective. He was more than content to watch silently, to run errands, and to make himself useful in any way desired by his superior. He said this, and Stone nodded indulgently.
“I shall begin with this matter of the arrest of Count Charlier,” said Stone, as he looked over his note-book. “Either that man is the guilty party or he is not. If not, he must be released. If so, it must be proven. What do you know of his history, Mr. Haviland?”
“Very little, Mr. Stone. In the first place, I doubt his right to the title he assumes.”
“You do? And why?”
Haviland looked a little embarrassed. “I’m not sure I know why. But he doesn’t act like a real Count.”
“Yes? And how do real Counts act, I mean in ways that differ from this man’s habits?”
“You’re having fun with me, Mr. Stone,” and Gray blushed like a school-boy. “But I mean it. It’s this way. I’m not a Count, but if I wanted to pretend I was, I’d act just as Count Charlier does. There!”
“Good! That’s definite, at least. Now make it a little more so by describing some of these actions.”