Bones in London

Am I right, sir?"

"Do you mean to tell me," exploded Hamilton, "that you were watchingme?"

Bones nodded.

"I picked you up, old thing, outside the Piccadilly Tube. I shadowedyou to the theatre. I followed you home. You got a taxi – No.297431 – and you were an awful long time before you got out when youreached the lady's destination – an awful long time," said Bonesemphatically. "What you could find to talk about after the cab haddrawn up at the dear old ancestral home of Vera – "

"Bones," said Hamilton awfully. "I think you've gone far enough."

"I thought you'd gone a bit too far, dear old thing, I did really,"said Bones, shaking his head reprovingly. "I watched you verycarefully."

He danced, with a little squeak of joy, into the office of hisbeautiful secretary, leaving a very red and a pardonably annoyedHamilton breathing heavily.

Bones went to the office of Siker's Detective Agency early the nextmorning. He went, it may be remarked in passing, though these detailscan only be interesting to the psychologist, wearing the darkest of hisdark suits and a large black wideawake hat. There was a certainfurtiveness in his movements between the taxicab and the entrance ofthe office, which might suggest to anybody who had taken the trouble toobserve him that he was an escaping bank-robber.

Siker's had spacious offices and a small staff. Only Hilton, themanager, and a clerk were in when Bones presented his card. He wasimmediately conducted by Mr. Hilton to a very plain inner office, surrounded with narrow shelves, which in turn were occupied byinnumerable little deed boxes.

Mr. Hilton was a sober-faced man of fifty-five, sallow and unhappy.

His tone was funereal and deliberate, his eyes steady and remorseless.

"Sit down, Mr. Senob," he said hollowly. "I have a message from thelawyers, and I presume I am welcoming to this establishment the newproprietor who has taken the place of my revered chief, whom I havefaithfully served for twenty-nine years."

Bones closed his eyes and listened as to an address of welcome.

"Personally," said Mr. Hilton, "I think that the sale of this businessis a great mistake on the part of the Siker family. The Sikers havebeen detectives for four generations," he said with a relish of anantiquarian. "George Siker first started work as an investigator in1814 in this identical building. For thirty-five years he conductedSiker's Confidential Bureau, and was succeeded by his son James thegrandfather of the late John George for twenty-three years – "

"Quite so, quite so," said Bones. "Poor old George! Well, well, wecan't live for ever, dear old chief of staff. Now, the thing is, howto improve this jolly old business."

He looked around the dingy apartment without enthusiasm.

Bones had visitors that morning, many visitors. They were not, as hehad anticipated, veiled ladies or cloaked dukes, nor did they pour intohis discreet ears the stories of misspent lives.

There was Mr. Carlo Borker, of Borker's Confidential Enquiry Bureau, agross man in a top hat, who complained bitterly that old man Siker hadpractically and to all intents and purposes offered him an option ofthe business years ago.

It was a one-sided conversation.

"I says to him: 'Siker, if you ever want to sell out' … He says tome: 'Borker, my boy, you've only to offer me a reasonable figure' …I says to him: 'Now, Siker, don't ever let anybody else get thisbusiness…'"

Then there was ex-Inspector Stellingworth, of Stellingworth's DetectiveCorps, a gloomy man, who painted in the blackest colours thedifficulties and tragedies of private investigation, yet seemed willingenough to assume the burden of Siker's Agency, and give Bones athousand pounds profit on his transaction.

Mr. Augustus Tibbetts spent three deliciously happy days inreorganising the business. He purchased from the local gunsmith anumber of handcuffs, which were festooned upon the wall behind his deskand secured secretly – since he did not think that the melancholy Mr.Hilton would approve – a large cardboard box filled to the brim withadjustable beards of every conceivable hue, from bright scarlet tomouse colour.

He found time to relate to a sceptical Hamilton something of hisachievements.

"Wonderful case to-day, dear old boy," he said enthusiastically on thethird evening. "A naughty old lady has been flirting with a very, verynaughty old officer. Husband tremendously annoyed. How that man lovesthat woman!"

"Which man?" said Hamilton cynically.

"I refer to my client," said Bones not without dignity.

"Look here, Bones," said Hamilton with great seriousness, "do you thinkthis is a very nice business you are in? Personally, I think it'simmoral."

"What do you mean – immoral?" demanded the indignant Bones.

"Prying into other people's lives," said Hamilton.

"Lives," retorted the oracular Bones, "are meant to be pried into, dearold thing. An examination of jolly old motives is essential toscientific progress. I feel I am doing a public duty," he went onvirtuously, "exposing the naughty, chastising the sinful, and all thatsort of thing."

"But, honestly," said Hamilton persistently, "do you think it's thegame to chase around collecting purely private details about people'sgoings on?"

"Certainly," said Bones firmly, "certainly, dear old thing. It's apublic duty. Never let it be written on the fair pages of Thiggumythat a Tibbetts shrank back when the call of patriotism – all that sortof thing – you know what I mean?"

"I don't," said Hamilton.

"Well, you're a jolly old dense one," said Bones. "And let me say hereand now" – he rammed his bony knuckles on the table and withdrew themwith an "Ouch!" to suck away the pain – "let me tell you that, as theLatin poet said, 'Ad What's-his name, ad Thiggumy.' 'Everythinghuman's frightfully interesting'!"

Bones turned up at his detective office the next morning, full of zeal, and Hilton immediately joined him in his private office.

"Well, we finish one case to-day, I think," said Hilton withsatisfaction. "It has been very hard trailing him, but I got a goodman on the job, and here's the record."

He held in his hand a sheaf of papers.

"Very good," said Bones. "Excellent! I hope we shall bring themalefactor to justice."

"He's not exactly a malefactor," demurred Hilton. "It is a job we weredoing for one of our best clients."

"Excellent, excellent!" murmured Bones. "And well we've done it, I'msure." He leant back in his chair and half closed his eyes. "Tell mewhat you have discovered."

"This man's a bit of a fool in some ways," said Hilton.

"Which man – the client?"

"No, the fellow we've been trailing."

"Yes, yes," said Bones. "Go on."

"In fact, I wonder that Mr. de Vinne bothered about him."

"De Vinne?" said Bones sitting up. "Harold de Vinne, the moneyed one?"

"That's him. He's one of our oldest customers," said Hilton.

"Indeed," said Bones, this time without any enthusiasm at all.

"You see, a man did him in the eye," explained Mr. Hilton, "swindledhim, and all that sort of thing. Well, I think we have got enough tomake this chap look silly."

"Oh, yes," said Bones politely. "What have you got?"