“Don’t be an ass!” cried the K. M. “I’ve mislaid them, that’s all.”
The detective glared at him as though he would enjoy leading him to the moat in the tower.
“You’ve been robbed!” he gasped.
“Have you looked,” I asked, “in the unlikely places?”
“I always look there first,” explained the K. M.
“Look again,” commanded the detective.
Unhappily, the K. M. put his hand in his inside coat pocket and, with intense surprise, as though he had performed a conjuring trick, produced a paper that creaked and crinkled.
“That’s it!” he cried.
“You come with me,” commanded Scotland Yard, “before you lose it again.”