"I am he, Miss Brooke. It is kind of you to call so early to relieve my mind about your brother. I have known Lionel so long. …"
"He is resting easily," said the girl. "His complete recovery is merely a matter of time and nursing."
"That is good news," said Stanistreet. "Monsieur Duchemin I believe you know."
"I have been fortunate in that at least."
Gravely Lanyard saluted the hand extended to him in turn. "Mademoiselle is most gracious," he said humbly.
"Then—I understand—Monsieur Duchemin must have told you?" The girl addressed Stanistreet.
"Permit me to leave you" Lanyard interposed.
"No," she begged—"please not! I've nothing to say that you may not hear. You have been too much involved"
"If mademoiselle insists," Lanyard demurred. "I feel it is not right I should stay. And yet—if you will indulge me—I should like very much to demonstrate the truth of an old saw. …"
Two confused looks were his response.
"I fear I, for one, do not follow," Stanistreet admitted.
"I will explain quite briefly," Lanyard promised. "The adage I have in mind is as old as human wit: Set a thief to catch a thief. And the last time it was quoted in my hearing, it was not to my advantage. I recall, indeed, resenting it enormously."
He paused with purpose, looking down at the desk. A pad of blank paper caught his eye. He took it up and examined it with an abstracted manner.
