"There's something in that," said Guerchard grumpily. "But then, I'm always saying to my men, 'Suspect everything; suspect everybody; suspect, suspect, suspect.' I tell you, your Grace, that there is only one motto for the successful detective, and that is that one word, 'suspect.'"
"It can't be a very comfortable business, then," said the Duke. "But I suppose it has its charms."
"Oh, one gets used to the disagreeable part," said Guerchard.
The telephone bell rang; and he rose and went to it. He put the receiver to his ear and said, "Yes; it's I—Chief-Inspector Guerchard."
He turned and said to the Duke, "It's the gardener at Charmerace, your Grace."
"Is it?" said the Duke indifferently.
Guerchard turned to the telephone. "Are you there?" he said. "Can you hear me clearly? . . . I want to know who was in your hot-house yesterday . . . who could have gathered some of your pink salvias?"
"I told you that it was I," said the Duke.
"Yes, yes, I know," said Guerchard. And he turned again to the telephone. "Yes, yesterday," he said. "Nobody else? . . . No one but the Duke of Charmerace? . . . Are
