“I don’t think so,” said Mr. Fortune modestly. “Jack of all trades and master of none. That is why I am a specialist.”
The Hon. Sidney Lomas sat up. “Secondly, I resent your hurry to get rid of me. Thirdly, as I am going up to London to work and you are going back in this punt to do nothing, I should like to annoy you. Fourthly and lastly I know that I shan’t, and that embitters me. Does anything ever annoy you, Fortune?”
“Only work. Only the perverse criminal.”
Lomas groaned. “All criminals are perverse.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Most crime is a natural product.”
“Of course fools are natural,” said Lomas irritably. “The most natural of all animals. And if there were no fools—I shouldn’t spend the summer at Scotland Yard.”
“Well, many criminals are weak in the head.”
“That’s why a policeman’s life is not a happy one.”
“But most of ’em are a natural product. Opportunity makes the thief or what not—and there but for the grace of God go I. Circumstances lead a fellow into temptation.”
“Yes. I’ve wanted to do murder myself. But even with you I have hitherto refrained. There’s always a kink in the criminal’s mind before he goes wrong. Good Gad!” He dropped his voice. “Did you see her?”