"Respectable!" I said. "Is that it? Frankly, I have always felt that there isn't very much difference, after all, between the man who uses his brains to track down and to capture a criminal—as a detective does—and the man who uses his brains to make out a case against the criminal and get him convicted—as the barrister does—and the man who, after he has listened to all that can be said about the case by everybody concerned, sums it up, and, when a verdict has been returned, passes sentence. They are all three—judge, barrister, and detective—officers of the law and servants of the King and of the public; and I'm not sure that the detective's isn't the most important and useful work of the three. Anyhow, it is the most difficult."
"Bosh!" said Miss Clara shortly. "You'll be telling me next that you might just as well be a hangman, for he's as much an officer of the law and a servant of the King and of the public as the other three; and so, according to your showing, equally respectable. Bosh, Mr. Rissler! Bosh!"
"All right. Bosh it is, then!" I replied amicably. "Anything for a quiet life, and I admit I hadn't thought of your holding trumps all the time, and playing the hangman card. Anyhow, I'm answered on that score. What a wonderful woman you are! Judge, barrister, and detective all rolled into one. A great lawyer was lost to the world when it was decided that you should come into it wearing petticoats instead of a wig and gown."
"You're a fool!" said Miss Clara, not ill-pleased, in spite of the uncompromising plainness of her language.
"And now, what about the detective business?" she went on. "Are you going to give it up, or are you not? For you have got to decide one way or the other before you come here again. I wouldn't see my niece for the present, if I were you. She'll come round in time, like the rest of us, if she's left alone. There's nothing a woman hates so much as being taken at her word, and left alone. There are many more women who have gone back on what they'd said, and let a man have his own way, after swearing they wouldn't—there are many more who have done that, and been brought round to another way of thinking, just by being left alone, than by any other way. Pestering a woman, pleading with her, imploring her, is precious little use. You take the tip from me, young man—I know."
"You're a wonder, Miss Carleton, as I said before," I answered. "And I'll take a tip from you as eagerly as I'd take a kiss, if you'd give me one."
"Oh, bosh! Don't bother me! You're a fool—as I told you before," she retorted. "But think it over; take time, if you like, but think it over, and if you are a wise man and decide to do as I wish, as both of us wish, I'll stand your friend."
"Miss Carleton," I said, "I'll be frank with you. It doesn't want much thinking over. I had thought it over before I came here, and had practically decided for the present, at all events, to leave the detective work alone. The singular and to me entirely inexplicable attitude which you and your niece have chosen to take up, in giving me, so to speak, an ultimatum either to drop the work or to consider myself forbidden this house, aroused, just for a moment, an Irishman's love of fight, an Irishman's cussedness and contradictoriness. But I'll do as you say, and for the present, at all events, will leave Dumpling-hunting and detective work alone. I don't make any great sacrifice in doing so, as far as the Dumpling is concerned; for when he went away he was in too much of a hurry to leave me his visiting card, and I don't know where to find him if I wanted to. The only clue I have to him is concerned with this house, the doors of which, unless I drop detective work, must, you say, be closed to me. Moreover, whatever may have been his purpose in coming here and in watching this place (and I still suspect that he intends, or intended, to kidnap your brother), it is likely that that purpose he has for the present dropped. In fact, after so narrowly escaping capture here at the hands of the police, this house—for some time, at least—he is likely carefully to avoid. So even that clue is 'off.'"
"I'm very glad to hear it," was her reply. "Yes, what is it, Metcalfe? Do you want me?"
"If you please, m'm," answered Metcalfe, who had opened the door while Miss Clara was speaking, and was standing in an apologetic way with one hand on the handle. "I knocked twice, but you were talking and didn't hear me," he went on. "Miss Kate sent me. She'd like a word with you at once, please, and before Mr. Rissler goes."