“Well,” I began slowly, for I meant to enjoy my small triumph to the full, “I only wanted to ask you if you have yet found the missing hat?”
“No; have you?”
“No; I can’t say I have.” His face fell perceptibly. “But I know where a straw hat bearing the name of a Chicago hatter, and with the initials, ‘A. B.,’ stamped on the inside band, can be found,” I added.
“You don’t say so? Where is it?” He spoke quietly, but I noticed that his eyes glistened.
“I don’t quite know where it is at this moment, but when I last saw it, it was on this desk.”
“On this desk, and you allowed it—” He paused, speechless with disgust.
“Certainly, I allowed it to be taken away, if that is what you mean. However, you can easily get it again. It is not far off. But, I assure you, I have no intention of appearing in the character of the corpse in another sensational tragedy.”
“Who brought it here?” demanded Mr. Merritt.
“Well, do you think that Argot would be a likely person?” I asked.