“Wasn’t it? Well, the long and the short of it was that in the end he admitted, most reluctantly, that in the very peculiar circumstances of this case, he had perhaps allowed a few records of his dealings with Ballantine to survive. I asked to see them, and he went to his safe and brought out the fattest file you ever saw in your life. I should think Ballantine must have been an exceptionally valuable client of his. He seems to have made it his business to pry into the private affairs of every man, woman and child he ever had to deal with.”

“Including Eales?”

“Including Eales. Including also Mrs. Eales—the first and second.”

“Aha!”

“I’ve brought the relevant papers away with me,” went on Frant with a triumphant air, “and here they are. Here is a copy of Elderson’s letter to Ballantine enclosing a certified copy of the certificate of marriage between Charles Roderick Eales, bachelor, and Sarah Evans, spinster, on the 14th July, 1920, at the parish church of Oakenthorpe, Yorkshire; here is his report of his visit to the North Riding County Asylum and a transcript of the register of inmates there; here is the name and address of the doctor who certified her; here is——”

“Stop, stop!” Mallett begged. “I’ll take it as read. I’m a tired and hungry man, remember. Eales is a bigamist. We knew that already, but now we know just how, when and where he bigamized. We know when he was lawfully married and who to, and which asylum his wife is in. We have only got to send up to Yorkshire to get the evidence and he can be arrested whenever we like. Is that what you were going to say?”

“Well, yes,” the sergeant admitted. “It was—more or less.”

“Then there’s nothing more to be said—except to congratulate you on a smart piece of work. It was a really brilliant idea to get at the information through Ballantine’s passbook. And what do you propose to do next?”

“Exactly what you suggested just now, sir—get the evidence and put Eales under lock and key as soon as possible. When we do, I think we shall find out something further about Master Eales.”

“I think we shall,” said Mallett meditatively, and was silent for a moment, a barely perceptible smile flickering over his features. “In any case,” he added, “I think we can say we have done a useful bit of work today.”

It was Frant’s turn to smile. After the hard work that he had just completed, Mallett’s “we” struck him as decidedly entertaining, to say the least of it. His amusement did not pass unobserved.

“I said ‘we’,” repeated Mallett. “May I point out that you haven’t asked me yet what I have been doing while you were away?”

“But you told me yourself,” objected the sergeant. “You have been thinking, haven’t you?”