"I thought that was all you would require, sir."
"But there is yourself, Mr. Bates. I laid a place for you under the impression that you were hungry."
"Oh, sir," said Mr. Bates, with a little gasp, "if I may have something outside, sir! I—I should hardly like to sit down with you, sir."
The Professor raised his eyebrows again. "Really, Mr. Bates, a little more self-respect, if you please. You must remember that you are a burglar now, not a valet."
"Yes, sir."
Mr. Bates seated himself in the second chair, and the Professor, whose appetite seemed suddenly to have vanished, helped him to about seven-eighths of the eggs and bacon. Mr. Bates fell upon them with as much ferocity as his professional refinement would permit.
The Professor handed him a cup of tea, and after watching him for a minute, got up and walked to where a telephone was fastened to the wall. He took off the receiver.
"Are you there?" he said. "Please put me on to the London Exchange. Yes, thank you. Don't you bother, Mr. Bates, go on with your breakfast. Is that the Exchange? I want 400 City. Yes. Help yourself to some more tea when you want it, Mr. Bates. Are you there? Is that Scotland Yard? Professor Stenson. Would you ask Inspector Green to come to the telephone? All right. You will find some marmalade in the white pot, Mr. Bates. Is that you, Green? Yes. I want you to do something for me. It's just to look up the record of a man named William Bates, who was bound over at—where was it, Mr. Bates?—ah—Marylebone, on—what date?—May 7th. I should like to have any information you possess."
He turned and contemplated Mr. Bates, who was staring at him with his mouth open.
"Wonderful invention, the telephone, isn't it, Mr. Bates?" he remarked. "It keeps us so in touch with the actual facts of existence. But don't let my private business interfere with your breakfast. You must be hungry after your somewhat uncomfortable night."