Lanyard lounged back in his chair again, tolerantly smiling.
"Why trifle with the truth to spare my feelings?"
"Well!" Crane uncomfortably conceded—"I don't mind telling you, the job had all the ear-marks of one of the Lone Wolf's."
"Indeed?"
"The bird that opened that box did it painlessly, like you always used to, going on all I've heard—just talked to the works till the safe lay down and rolled over with all four paws in the air. Of course, he didn't leave any finger-marks. He got in by way of an extension at the back of the house: there's a French window opens onto it from the study. He didn't even need to jimmy that, though Mrs. McFee and the servants can't explain how it come to be open. In fact, the butler swears he latched it himself before he went to bed. Looks like somebody must have fixed it . . ."
"Somebody who, like your obedient servant, had plenty of opportunity."
"You got the idea."
"In short," said Lanyard, "what you are delicately trying to convey is that you'd be obliged if I'd come along quietly."
"No," Crane surprisingly answered: "nothing like that."
"Not—?" Lanyard persisted, in an unbelieving stare.