'No doubt,' said Mr. Sturgis.
'Lord Wisbeach used to be intimate with the real Jimmy Crocker. He came to lunch to-day and met this impostor. He pretended to recognise him, in order to put him off his guard, but after lunch he came to me here and told me that in reality he had never seen him before in his life, and that, whoever else he might be, he was certainly not James Crocker, my nephew.'
She broke off and looked at Mr. Sturgis expectantly. The detective smiled a quiet smile.
'And even that is not all. There is another thing. Mr. Pett used to employ as a physical instructor a man named Jerry Mitchell. Yesterday I dismissed him for reasons it is not necessary to go into. To-day--just as you arrived in fact--the man who calls himself Jimmy Crocker was begging me to allow Mitchell to return to the house and resume his work here. Does that not strike you as suspicious, Mr. Sturgis?'
The detective closed his eyes, and smiled his quiet smile again. He opened his eyes, and fixed them on Mrs. Pett.
'As pretty a case as I have come across in years,' he said. 'Mrs. Pett, let me tell you something. It is one of my peculiarities that I never forget a face. You say that this young man pretends to have landed this morning from the -Caronia-? Well, I saw him myself more than a week ago in a Broadway -cafe-.'
'You did?'
'Talking to--Jerry Mitchell. I know Mitchell well by sight.'
Mrs. Pett uttered an exclamation.
'And this butler of yours--Skinner. Shall I tell you something about him? You perhaps know that when the big detective agencies, Anderson's and the others, are approached in the matter of tracing a man who is wanted for anything they sometimes ask the smaller agencies like my own to work in with them. It saves time and widens the field of operations. We are very glad to do Anderson's service, and Anderson's are big enough to be able to afford to let us do it. Now, a few days ago, a friend of mine in Anderson's came to me with a sheaf of photographs, which had been sent to them from London. Whether some private client in London or from Scotland Yard I do not know. Nor do I know why the original of the photograph was wanted. But Anderson's had been asked to trace him and make a report. My peculiar gift for remembering faces has enabled me to oblige the Anderson people once or twice before in this way. I studied the photographs very carefully, and kept two of them for reference. I have one with me now.' He felt in his pockets. 'Do you recognise it?'
Mrs. Pett stared at the photograph. It was the presentment of a stout, good-humoured man of middle-age, whose solemn gaze dwelt on the middle distance in that fixed way which a man achieves only in photographs.
'Skinner!'
'Exactly,' said Mr. Sturgis, taking the photograph from her and putting it back in his pocket. 'I recognised him directly he opened the door to me.'
'But--but I am almost certain that Skinner is the man who let me in when I called on my sister in London.'
'-Almost-,' repeated the detective. 'Did you observe him very closely?'
'No. I suppose I did not.'
'The type is a very common one. It would be very easy indeed for a clever crook to make himself up as your sister's butler closely enough to deceive any one who had only seen the original once and for a short time then. What their game is I could not say at present, but, taking everything into consideration, there can be no doubt whatever that the man who calls himself your nephew and the man who calls himself your sister's butler are working together, and that Jerry Mitchell is working in with them. As I say, I cannot tell you what they are after at present, but there is no doubt that your unexpected dismissal of Mitchell must have upset their plans. That would account for the eagerness to get him back into the house again.'
'Lord Wisbeach thought that they were trying to steal my nephew's explosive. Perhaps you have read in the papers that my nephew, Willie Partridge, has completed an explosive which is more powerful than any at present known. His father--you have heard of him, of course--Dwight Partridge.'
Mr. Sturgis nodded.
'His father was working on it at the time of his death, and Willie has gone on with his experiments where he left off. To-day at lunch he showed us a test-tube full of the explosive. He put it in my husband's safe in the library. Lord Wisbeach is convinced that these scoundrels are trying to steal this, but I cannot help feeling that this is another of those attempts to kidnap my son Ogden. What do you think?'
'It is impossible to say at this stage of the proceedings. All we can tell is that there is some plot going on. You refused, of course, to allow Mitchell to come back to the house?'
'Yes. You think that was wise?'
'Undoubtedly. If his absence did not handicap them, they would not be so anxious to have him on the spot.'
'What shall we do?'
'You wish me to undertake the case?'
'Of course.'
Mr. Sturgis frowned thoughtfully.
'It would be useless for me to come here myself. By bad luck the man who pretends to be your nephew has seen me. If I were to come to stay here, he would suspect something. He would be on his guard.' He pondered with closed eyes. 'Miss Trimble,' he exclaimed.
'I beg your pardon.'
'You want Miss Trimble. She is the smartest worker in my office. This is precisely the type of case she could handle to perfection.'
'A woman?' said Mrs. Pett doubtfully.
