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 "Well?"—after a moment's pause.

"I am a detective, you understand."

"Perfectly," Maitland assented, unmoved.

His caller seemed partly amused, partly—but very slightly—embarrassed. "I have been assigned to cover the affair of last night," he continued blandly. "I presume you have no objection to giving me what information you may possess."

"Credentials?"

The man's amusement was made visible in a fugitive smile, half-hidden by his small and neatly trimmed mustache. Mutely eloquent, he turned back the lapel of his coat, exposing a small shield; at which Maitland glanced casually.

"Very well," he consented, bored but resigned. "Fire ahead, but make it as brief as you can; I've an engagement in"—glancing at the clock—"an hour, and must dress."

"I'll detain you no longer than is essential. … Of course you understand how keen we are after this man, Anisty."