Bones nodded. Remember that he was always prepared for a miracle, even at closing time.
"My name is Siker," said the visitor.
"And a jolly good name, too," said Bones, dimly conscious of the fact that he had heard this name mentioned before.
"You probably saw the account of my father's death. It was in this morning's newspaper, though he died last week," said Mr. Siker.
Bones screwed up his forehead.
"I remember that name," he said. "Now, let me think. Why, of course—Siker's Detective Agency."
It was the young man's turn to nod.
"That's right, sir," he said. "John Siker was my father. I'm his only son."
Bones waited.
"I've heard it said, Mr. Tibbetts," said the young man—"at least, it has been represented to me—that you are on the look-out for likely businesses that show a profit."