"Why, George," he says, at last. "I don't see that you could have done better. It was no part of our plan to have this murder happen, and it bids fair to make us some trouble that we had not counted on. But we are used to that, George. So you think you might have known who did the deed?"
"I might, sir, if I had followed Burrill; I felt all the time that he was the man to watch."
"Oh!" with an odd smile; "your instincts are on the alert. However, you did right in disregarding instinct, and obeying orders. Now then, be off sir, and until you have further notice, keep both your eyes on Mr. Belknap. By the by, when do they hold an inquest?"
"At three o'clock, sir; they want to have Mr. Lamotte there."
"Well! that's all, George; you had better dispose of your traps for the day, and look sharp after Mr. Belknap."
"All right, sir;" and taking up his tray, the little detective goes out, dropping back into his old impudent manner, as the door closes behind him.
"So, Burrill has been killed," soliloquizes the portly gentleman seating himself before his cheery fire. "Well, that goes to show that we detectives don't find out all the tangles. We are lucky oftener than we are shrewd! Now look, I fancied I had the game in my hands, and stepped into town this morning to throw my trump and win, and now, my game is blocked, and a new one opens against me."