"My argument," said Bones, "is that you have Twickenham mud on your boots, therefore you come from Twickenham. It is evident that on your way to the station you stopped to buy a newspaper, that something was on your mind, something made you very thoughtful—something on your jolly old conscience, I'll bet!"
"How do you know that?" asked Hamilton.
"There's your Times on the table," said Bones triumphantly, "unopened."
"Quite true," said Hamilton; "I bought it just before I came into the office."
"H'm!" said Bones. "Well, I won't deceive you, dear old partner. I've bought Siker's."
Hamilton put down his pen and leaned back in his chair.
"Who's Siker's?"
"Siker's Detective Agency," began Bones, "is known from one end——"
"Oh, I see. Whew!" whistled Hamilton. "You were doing a bit of detecting!"
Bones smirked.