"The murder?"
"Eh?" said Denzil Cantercot, startled. "What do you mean?"
"What I say. Since December 4, I reckon everything from that murder, now, as they reckon longitude from Greenwich."
"Oh," said Denzil Cantercot.
"Let me see. Nearly a fortnight. What a long time to keep away from Drink—and Me."
"I don't know which is worse," said Denzil, irritated. "You both steal away my brains."
"Indeed?" said Grodman, with an amused smile. "Well, it's only petty pilfering, after all. What's put salt on your wounds?"
"The twenty-fourth edition of my book."
"Whose book?"
"Well, your book. You must be making piles of money out of 'Criminals I Have Caught.'"