"Oh, yes, you do. What are you doing here?"
"Honestly, my good fellow," Mark began to show a little pique, "you have remarkable curiosity about what isn't your business."
"But it is my business, Griffin. I am not a book agent, and never was."
It was Mark's turn to smile.
"Which fact," he said, "is not information to me. I knew it long ago. You are a detective."
"I am. Does that tell you nothing?"
"Nothing," replied Mark, "except that you make up splendidly as a really decent sort of fellow."
"Perhaps I am a decent sort, decent enough, anyhow; and perhaps I don't particularly like my business, but it is my business. Now, look here, Griffin, I want you to help instead of hindering me. I have to ask this question of you: What do you know about Ruth Atheson? You see her every day."
"So," said Mark, annoyed, "the constable has not been around for nothing."
"You have seen him then?"