woman, and beside her a bullet-headed gentleman with a bowler hat on the back of his head, in whom Archie recognised the hotel detective.
The hotel detective also recognised Archie, and the stern cast of his features relaxed. He even smiled a rusty but propitiatory smile. He imagined—erroneously—that Archie, being the son-in-law of the owner of the hotel, had a pull with that gentleman; and he resolved to proceed warily lest he jeopardise his job.
"Why, Mr. Moffam!" he said, apologetically. "I didn't know it was you I was disturbing."
"Always glad to have a chat," said Archie, cordially. "What seems to be the trouble?"
"My snake!" cried the queen of tragedy. "Where is my snake?"
Archie looked at the detective. The detective looked at Archie.
"This lady," said the detective, with a dry little cough, "thinks her snake is in your room, Mr. Moffam."
"Snake?"
"Snake's what the lady said."
"My snake! My Peter!" Mme. Brudowska's voice shook with emotion. "He is here—here in this room."
Archie shook his head.
"No snakes here! Absolutely not! I remember noticing when I came in."
"The snake is here—here in this room. This man had it in a bag! I saw him! He is a thief!"
"Easy, ma'am!" protested the detective. "Go easy! This gentleman is the boss's son-in-law."
"I care not who he is! He has my snake! Here—here in this room!"
